GIFT  OF 


>>- 


Surely  the  rider  was  just  what  the  owner  of  the  voice,  half 
laughing,  half  crooning,  tenderly  lilting,  must  be  (Page  2) 


THE   SHORT  CUT 


BY 

JACKSON  GREGORY 

Author  of  "Under  Handicap,"  "The  Outlaw" 


WITH  ILLUSTRATIONS  BY 

FRANK  TENNEY  JOHNSON 


NEW  YORK 

DODD,  MEAD  AND  COMPANY 
1916 


COPYRIGHT,  1*16 
BY  DODD,  MEAD  AND  COMPANY,  INC. 


, 


TO 

"MOTHER"  McGLASHAN 

AND 

GENERAL  C.  F.   McGLASHAN 


343904 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

I  THE  TRAGEDY    .,    ...    ...    ..    ..    ,.     .,    .  i 

II  THE  SHADOW     ......     .     .  13 

III  SUSPICION      .     .     .     -. .    i 26 

IV  THE  WHITE  HUNTRESS     .     .     .     .     .  37 
V  THE  HOME  COMING  OF  RED  RECKLESS     .  59 

VI  THE  PROMISE  OF  LITTLE  SAXON    .     ..-  .     75 

VII  THE  GLADNESS  THAT  SINGS    ....     94 

VIII  "  BLUFF,  AND  THE  GAMBLER  WINS!  "  .  104 

IX  THE  CONTEMPT  OF  SLEDGE  HUME      .  .116 

X  SHANDON'S  GOLDEN  OPPORTUNITY     .  .126 

XI  WANDA'S  DISCOVERY      .     .     .     .     .  .   138 

XII  THE  TALES  OF  MR.  WILLIE  DART      .  .156 

XIII  SLEDGE  HUME  MAKES  A  CALL  AND  LAYS 

A  WAGER 168 

XIV  IN  WANDA'S  CAVE 182 

XV    WILLIE  DART  PICKS  A  LOCK    ....  200 

XVI    AND  SOLVES  A  FASCINATING  MYSTERY     .  214 

XVII    "WHERE'S   THAT   TWENTY-FIVE   THOU 
SAND?"      225 

XVIII  THE  TRUTH 240 

XIX  SHANDON  TAKES  His  STAND    .     .     .     .  247 

XX  HUME  PLAYS  A  TRUMP      .     ....  262 

XXI  THE  SHORT  CUT     .     .    ,.,    .     .     .     .  274 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

XXII  THE  FUGITIVE 289 

XXIII  HELGA  STRAWN  PLAYS  THE  GAME      .     .  305 

XXIV  UNDER  THE  SURFACE 317 

XXV  RED  RECKLESS  ON  LITTLE  SAXON  .     .     .  333 

XXVI    THE  LAUGHTER  OF  HELGA  STRAWN    .     .  349 

XXVII    HUME  RIDES  THE  ONE  OPEN  TRAIL  .     .  362 

XXVIII    "!T  Is  HOME!" 374 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

Surely  the  rider  was  just  what  the  owner  of  the 

half  laughing,  half  crooning,  tenderly  lilting,  must    '• 
be   (Page  2) Frontispiece 


FACING 
FACING 


"  I  want  just  to  smoke  and  watch  you  and  listen  while 

you  talk " '    ...     98 

She  made  herself  as  comfortable  as  she  could,  drew  her 
camera  from  its  case,  and  waited  a  patient  quarter 
of  an  hour 150 

"  I  call  upon  you  to  give  yourself  up !  "  he  shouted. 

"Stop,  Red,  or  I  shoot  this  time!"  ....  338 


THE  SHORT  CUT 


CHAPTER  I 

THE   TRAGEDY 

HERE  was  a  small  stream  of  water,  bright, 
clear  and  cool,  running  its  merry  way  among 
the  tall  pines,  hurrying  to  the  dense  shade 
of    the    lower    valley.     The    grass    on    its    banks 
stood   tall,    lush   and   faintly   odorous,    fresh   with 
the  newly  come  springtime,  delicately  scented  with 
the  thickly  strewn  field  flowers.     The  sunlight  lay 
bright  and  warm  over  all;  the  sky  was  blue  with  a 
depth  of  colour  intensified  by  the  few  great  white 
clouds  drifting  lazily  across  it. 

No  moving  thing  within  all  the  wide  rolling  land 
scape  save  the  sun-flecked  water,  the  softly  stirring 
grass  and  rustling  forests,  the  almost  motionless 
white  clouds.  For  two  miles  the  hills  billowed 
away  gently  to  the  northward,  where  at  last  they 
were  swept  up  into  the  thickly  timbered,  crag-crestedt 
mountains.  For  twice  two  miles  toward  the  west 
one  might  guess  the  course  of  the  stream  before 
here,  too,  the 'mountains  shut  in,  leaving  only  Echo 
Canon's  narrow  gap  for  the  cool  water  to  slip 
through.  To  the  south  and  to  the  east  ridges  and 


2  THE  SHORT  CUT 

hollows  and  mountains,  and  beyond  a  few  fast  melt 
ing  patches  of  last  winter's  snow  clinging  to  the  lofty 
summits,  looking  like  fragments  broken  away  from 
the  big  white  clouds  and  resting  for  a  moment  on  the 
line  where  land  and  sky  met. 

The  stillness  was  too  perfect  to  remain  long  un 
broken.  From  a  trail  leading  down  into  the  valley 
from  the  east  a  shepherd  dog,  running  eagerly,  broke 
through  the  waving  grass,  paused  a  second  looking 
back  expectantly,  sniffed  and  ran  on.  Then  a  sound 
from  over  the  ridge  through  the  trees,  the  sound 
of  singing,  a  young  voice  lilting  wordlessly  in  enrap 
tured  gladness  that  life  was  so  bright  this  morning. 
And  presently  a  horse,  a  dark  bay  saddle  pony  mov 
ing  as  lazily  as  the  clouds  above,  brought  ^ts  rider 
down  to  the  stream. 

Surely  the  rider  was  just  what  the  owner  of  the 
voice,  half  laughing,  half  crooning,  tenderly  lilting, 
must  be.  It  seemed  that  only  since  the  dawn  of  to 
day  had  she  become  a  woman  having  been  a  child  un 
til  the  dusk  of  yesterday.  The  wide  grey  eyes,  look 
ing  out  upon  a  gentle  aspect  of  life,  were  inclined  to 
be  merry  and  musing  at  the  same  time,  soft  with 
maidenhood's  day  dreaming,  tender  with  pleasant 
thoughts.  A  child  of  the  outdoors,  her  skin  sun- 
tinged  to  a  warm  golden  brown,  her  hair  sunburnt 
where  it  slipped  out  of  the  shadow  of  her  big  hat, 
her  lips  red  with  young  health,  her  slender  body  in 
its  easy,  confident  carriage  showing  how  the  muscles 
under  the  soft  skin  were  strong  and  capable. 


THE  TRAGEDY  3 

At  her  saddle  horn,  in  its  case,  was  a  camera; 
snapped  to  her  belt  and  resting  against  her  left  hip, 
a  pair  of  field  glasses. 

The  horse  played  at  drinking,  pretending  a  thirst 
which  it  did  not  feel,  and  began  to  paw  the  clear 
water  into  muddiness.  The  dog  ran  on,  turned 
again,  barked  an  invitation  to  its  mistress  to  join  in 
the  search  for  adventures,  and  plunged  into  the  tall 
grass. 

The  girl's  song  died  away,  her  lips  stilled  by  the 
hush  of  the  coming  noonday.  For  a  moment  she 
was  very  silent,  so  motionless  that  she  seemed 
scarcely  to  breathe. 

"  Life  is  good  here,"  she  mused,  her  eyes  wan 
dering  across  the  valley  to  the  wall  of  the  moun 
tains  shutting  out  the  world  of  cities.  "  It  is  like 
the  air,  sweet  and  clean  and  wholesome !  Life !  " 
she  whispered,  as  though  in  reality  she  had  been 
born  just  this  dawn  to  the  awe  of  it,  the  wonder  of 
it,  "I  love  Life!" 

She  breathed  deeply,  her  breast  rising  high  to  the 
warm,  scented  air  drawn  slowly  through  parted  lips 
as  though  she  would  drink  of  the  rare  wine  of  the 
springtime. 

The  dog  had  found  something  in  the  deep  grass 
which  sent  it  scampering  back  across  the  water  and 
almost  under  the  horse's  legs,  snarling. 

"  What  is  it,  Shep?  "  laughed  the  girl.  "  What 
have  you  found  that  is  so  dreadful?  " 

But  Shep  was  not  to  be  laughed  out  *of  his  growls 


4  THE  SHORT  CUT 

and  whines.  Presently  he  ran  back  toward  the  place 
where  he  had  made  his  headlong  crossing,  stopped 
abruptly,  broke  into  a  quick  series  of  short,  sharp 
barks,  and  again  turning  fled  to  the  horse  and  rider 
as  though  for  protection,  whining  his  fear. 

u  Is  it  really  something,  Shep?"  asked  the  girl, 
puzzled  a  little.  She  leaned  forward  in  the  saddle, 
patting  her  mare's  warm  neck.  "  I  think  he's  just 
an  old  humbug  as  usual,  Gypsy,"  she  smiled  indul 
gently.  "  But  shall  we  go  over  and  see?  " 

Gypsy  splashed  noisily  across  the  stream,  the  dog 
still  growling  and  slinking  close  to  the  horse's  heels. 
The  girl  saw  where  Shep  had  parted  the  grass  with 
his  inquisitive  nose,  leaving^  a  plain  trail.  And  not 
ten  steps  from  the  edge  of  the  water  she  came  upon 
the  thing  that  Shep  had  found. 

The  mare's  nostrils  suddenly  quivered;  she 
trembled  a  moment,  and  then  with  a  snort  of  fear 
whirled  and  plunged  back  toward  the  creek.  But 
the  girl  had  seen.  The  colour  ran  out  of  her  face, 
the  musing  peace  fled  from  her  eyes  and  a  swift  hor 
ror  leaped  out  upon  her.  In  one  flash  the  soft 
calm  of  the  morning  had  become  a  mockery,  its 
promise  a  lie.  Here,  into  the  wonder  of  Life, 
Death  had  corne. 

She  had  had  but  an  uncertain  glance  at  the  thing 
lying  huddled  in  the  tall  grass,  but  her  instinct  like 
Shep's  and  Gypsy's  understood.  And  for  a  blind, 
terror-stricken  moment,  she  felt  that  she  must  yield 
as  they  yielded  to  the  fear  within  her,  to  the  prim- 


THE  TRAGEDY  5 

itive  urge  to  flee  from  Death;  that  she  could  not 
draw  near  the  spot  where  a  man  had  died,  where 
even  now  the  body  lay  cold  in  the  sunshine. 

Her  hands  were  shaking  pitifully  when  at  last  she 
tied  Gypsy  to  the  lower  limb  of  an  oak  beside  the 
creek.  As  she  went  slowly  back  along  the  little 
trail  the  dog  had  made  she  told  herself  that  the  man 
was  not  dead,  that  he  was  sick  or  hurt  .  .  .  and 
though  she  had  never  looked  upon  Death  before 
this  morning  when  it  seemed  to  her  that  she  had 
looked  upon  Life  for  the  first  time,  she  knew  what 
that  grotesque  horror  meant,  she  knew  why  the  man 
lay,  as  he  did,  face  down  and  still. 

At  last  she  stood  over  the  body,  her  swift  eyes 
informing  her  reluctant  consciousness  of  a  host  of 
details.  She  saw  that  the  grass  around  was  beaten 
down  in  a  rude  circle,  heard  the  whining  of  the  dog 
at  her  heels,  noticed  that  the  man  lay  on  his  right 
side,  his  head  twisted  so  that  his  cheek  touched  his 
shoulder,  the  face  hidden,  one  arm  crumpled  under 
him,  one  outflung  and  grasping  a  handful  of  up 
rooted  grass  with  set  rigid  fingers. 

A'  sickness,  a  f aintness,  and  with  it  an  almost  un 
controllable  desire  to  run  madly  from  this  place, 
this  thing,  swept  over  her.  But  she  drew  closer, 
kneeling  quickly,  and  put  her  warm  hand  upon  the 
hand  that  clutched  the  wisp  of  grass  so  rigidly.  It 
was  cold,  so  cold  that  she  drew  back  suddenly,  shud 
dering. 

Not  even  now  did  she  know  who  the  man  was. 


6  THE  SHORT  CUT 

It  had  not  yet  entered  her  mind  that  she  could  know 
him.  She  rose  to  her  feet,  and  walking  softly  as 
though  her  footfall  in  the  grass  might  waken  some 
one  sleeping,  she  moved  about  the  still  figure,  to  the 
other  side,  so  that  she  might  see  the  face.  Then 
she  cried  out  softly,  piteously,  and  Shep  ceased  his 
whining  and  came  to  her  around  the  body,  rubbing 
against  her  skirts. 

"  Arthur !  "  She  came  closer,  knelt  again  and  put 
her  hands  gently  upon  the  short-cropped,  curling 
hair.  "  Oh,  Arthur!  Is  it  you?  "  Only  now  did 
she  know  how  this  man  with  the  young,  frank  face 
had  died.  Now  she  saw  blood  smeared  on  the 
white  forehead,  a  bullet  wound  torn  in  the  temple. 
She  sprang  to  her  feet,  staring  with  wide  eyes  at  the 
little  hole  through  which  the  man's  soul  had  fled. 
She  turned  hastily  toward  her  horse,  came  back, 
placed  her  straw  hat  tenderly  over  the  short  curling 
hair,  and  ran  to  Gypsy. 

She  was  vaguely  conscious  that  her  brain  was 
acting  as  it  had  never  acted  before,  that  her  excited 
nerves  were  filling  her  mind  with  a  mass  of  sensa 
tions  and  fragmentary  thoughts  strangely  clearcut 
and  definite.  Like  some  wonderfully  constructed 
camera  her  faculties,  in  an  instant  no  longer  than  the 
tirrie  required  for  the  clicking  of  the  shutter,  photo 
graphed  a  hawk  circling  high  up  in  the  sky,  a 
waving  branch,  with  no  less  truth  and  vividness  than 
the  body  sprawling  there  in  the  grass.  Emotions, 
scents,  sounds,  objects  blended  into  a  strange  men- 


THE  TRAGEDY  7 

tal  snap-shot,  no  one  detail  less  clear  than  another. 

Jerking  the  mare's  tie  rope  free  from  the  oak, 
she  flung  herself  into  the  saddle,  and  turned  back 
toward  the  trail  that  led  across  the  creek  and  over 
the  ridge.  But  Shep  had  found  something  else  in  the 
grass  half  a  dozen  steps  beyond  the  dead  man,  some 
thing  that  he  sniffed  at  and  nosed  and  that  excited 
him.  Making  a  little  detour,  she  rode  back  to  the 
spot  where  the  dog,  barking  now,  was  waiting  for  her. 

As  she  leaned  forward  looking  down  upon  this 
second  thing  the  shepherd  dog  had  found,  she 
clutched  suddenly  at  the  horn  of  her  saddle  as 
though  all  her  strength  had  dribbled  out  of  her,  and 
she  were  going  to  fall.  The  keen  nostrils  of  the 
animal  had  led  him  to  this  object  with  its  sinister  con 
nection  with  the  tragedy  and  he  had  pawed  at  it, 
dragging  it  toward  him  and  free  of  the  green  tangle 
into  which  it  had  fallen  or  been  flung. 

It  was  a  revolver,  thirty-eight  calibre,  unlike  the 
weapons  one  might  expect  to  find  here  in  the  range 
country  or  about  the  sawmills  further  back  .  .  . 
and  the  girl  recognised  it.  The  deadly  viciousness 
of  the  firearm  was  disguised  by  the  pearl  grip  and 
silver  chasings  until  it  had  seemed  a  toy.  But  here 
was  Arthur  Shandon  dead,  with  a  bullet  in  his  brain, 
and  here  almost  at  his  side  was  a  revolver  she  knew 
so  well.  .  .  . 

She  covered  her  face  with  her  hands  and  shook 
like  one  of  the  pine  needles  above  her  head  caught 
in  a  quick  breath  of  air.  Shep  looked  up  at  her 


8  THE  SHORT  CUT 

with  his  sharp,  eager  bark  and  then  the  gladness  of 
discovery  in  his  eyes  changed  suddenly  into  wistful 
wonder.  Gypsy,  with  tossing  head  and  jingling 
bridle,  turned  toward  the  crossing,  quickening  her 
stride,  ready  to  break  into  a  trot. 

At  last  the  girl  jerked  her  hands  away  from  a 
face  that  was  white  and  miserable,  and  with  angry 
spur  and  rein  brought  the  mare  back  to  the  spot 
where  the  revolver  lay.  Slipping  down,  she  hesi 
tated  a  moment,  glancing  swiftly  about  as  though 
afraid  some  one  might  see  her,  even  with  a  look  that 
was  almost  suspicious  at  the  quiet  body  of  Arthur 
Shandon,  and  stooping  suddenly  swept  up  the  thing 
that  had  been  a  toy  yesterday  and  was  so  hideously 
tragic  to-day.  It  was  with  a  great  effort  of  her  will 
that  she  compelled  her  fingers  to  touch  it,  forced 
them  to  close  upon  it  and  take  it  up.  Then  with  a 
little  cry  into  which  loathing  and  dread  merged,  she 
cast  it  from  her,  flinging  it  far  down  stream  so  that 
it  fell  into  a  black  pool  below  a  tiny,  frothing  water 
fall. 

"I  can't  believe  it.  I  won't  believe  it!"  she 
murmured  in  a  voice  that  shook  even  as  her  hands 
were  shaking.  "It  is  too  terrible!" 

No  longer  could  she  look  at  the  huddled  form  in 
the  grass,  the  young,  frank  face  that  was  so  still  and 
white  and  cold  in  the  sunshine.  Throwing  herself 
into  the  saddle,  she  swung  Gypsy's  head  about 
toward  the  trail,  as  though  she  were  fleeing  from  a 
fearful  pursuing  menace.  Shep,  who  had  run,  bark- 


THE  TRAGEDY  9 

ing,  to  retrieve  his  lost  discovery  from  the  black 
pool  under  the  waterfall,  snapped  his  disappoint 
ment  from  the  bank  and  then  splashed  through  the 
creek  after  his  mistress. 

Two  hundred  yards  the  girl  raced  along  the  up- 
trail,  her  mare  running,  her  dog  struggling  hard  to 
keep  up.  Then  with  a  new,  sudden  fear  she  jerked 
her  pony  to  a  standstill. 

"  I  ...  I  can't  leave  it  there,"  her  white  lips 
were  whispering.  "  They  will  find  it,  and  then 
.  .  .  Oh,  my  God!" 

And  now  her  brain  had  ceased  to  act  like  a 
strangely  magical  camera;  now  sights  and  sounds 
and  faint  odours  about  her  were  all  unnoticed.  Her 
eyes,  wide  and  staring  at  the  winding  trail  before 
her,  did  not  see  the  broad  trees  or  the  flower  sprin 
kled  grass  or  the  blossoming  manzanita  bushes. 
They  gazed  through  these  things  which  they  did 
not  see,  and  instead  saw  what  might  lie  in  the  future, 
what  fate  the  grim  gods  of  destiny  might  mete  out 
...  to  one  man  ...  if  the  revolver  below  the 
waterfall  were  found ! 

Her  hesitation  was  brief;  the  horror  of  what 
might  lurk  in  the  future  was  greater  than  the  horror 
of  what  lay  back  there  behind  her.  Again  she  urged 
her  puzzled  horse  back  to  the  stream,  flinging  her 
self  down  just  at  the  edge  of  the  pool.  Far  down 
at  the  bottom  upon  the  white  sand,  wedged  between 
two  white  stones,  the  revolver  lay  plainly  visible. 
The  noonday  sun  rested  upon  the  deep  water  here 


io  THE  SHORT  CUT 

and  its  secret  was  no  secret  at  all.  She  was  glad 
that  she  had  come  back. 

Snatching  up  the  dead  limb  of  a  shrub  lying  close 
at  hand,  with  little  difficulty  or  waste  of  time,  she 
dragged  the  weapon  toward  her  until  she  could  thrust 
her  arm,  elbow  deep  into  the  water,  and  secure  it. 

She  shuddered  as  when  she  had  first  forced  her 
hand  to  touch  it.  But  with  quick,  steady  fingers  she 
dried  it  against  her  skirt  and  thrust  it  into  the  only 
place  where  she  could  be  sure  of  safety,  where  its 
voice  would  be  silenced  to  all  except  her  own  heart, 
deep  into  the  bosom  of  her  waist.  And  again  she 
was  on  Gypsy's  back,  again  fleeing  along  the  up-trail. 

As  she  rode,  as  the  rush  of  air  whipped  in  her 
face  and  the  leaping  body  of  the  mare  under  her  gave 
her  muscles  something  to  do,  the  blood  flamed  again 
into  her  cheeks;  courage  rushed  back  into  a  heart 
that  was  naturally  unafraid. 

"  I  have  not  been  loyal,"  she  whispered  over  and 
over  to  herself  accusingly.  "  I  have  not  been  a  true 
friend.  I  have  suspected  and  I  know,  oh,  I  know 
so  well,  that  it  can't  be!  He  wouldn't  do  a  thing 
like  that,  he  couldn't!  " 

She  topped  the  ridge,  sped  on  for  half  a  mile 
upon  its  crest,  racing  straight  toward  the  east, 
dropped  down  into  another  valley  ten  times  bigger 
than  the  one  she  had  just  quitted,  and  still  following 
the  trail  headed  southward  again.  Here  there  were 
fewer  trees,  a  sprinkling  of  pine  and  fir,  and  wider 
open  spaces.  Another  stream,  even  smaller  than 


THE  TRAGEDY  n 

Echo  Creek,  watered  the  valley.  She  rode  through 
a  small  herd  of  saddle  horses  that  flashed  away 
before  her  swift  approach,  their  manes  and  tails 
flying,  and  scarcely  realised  that  she  had  disturbed 
them.  Off  to  her  left,  at  the  upper  end  of  the  val 
ley  where  were  a  number  of  grazing  cattle,  she 
thought  she  could  distinguish  the  figures  of  a  couple 
of  her  father's  cowboys  riding  herd.  But  she  did 
not  turn  to  them. 

Gypsy,  warming  to  the  race,  carried  her  mistress 
valiantly  the  half  a  dozen  miles  from  the  ridge  she 
had  crossed  to  the  knoll  crowned  with  great  boled, 
sky  seeking  cedars  where  her  father's  ranch  house 
stood.  Half  a  mile  away  the  girl  made  out  the  wide 
verandahs,  the  long  flight  of  steps,  the  hammock 
where  she  had  read  and  dozed  last  night,  yes,  and 
dreamed  the  tender,  half  wistful,  yet  rose  tinted 
dreams  of  maidenhood.  She  saw,  too,  the  stables 
at  the  base  of  the  knoll,  to  the  northward,  where  one 
of  the  boys,  Charlie  or  Jim,  was  harnessing  the 
greys,  preparatory  to  hitching  them  to  the  big 
wagon.  The  thought  flashed  through  her  mind  that 
he  counted  upon  going  out  for  a  load  of  wood,  and 
that  he  would  be  called  upon  first  to  bring  in  another 
burden  that  he  would  never  forget. 

Her  eyes  went  back  to  the  house.  There  was 
some  one  sitting  in  a  rocker  in  the  shade  near  the 
front  door.  It  was  her  mother.  This  news  would 
be  a  bitter,  bitter  shock  to  the  tender-hearted  woman 
who  had  called  Arthur  Shandon  one  of  her  "  boys." 


12  THE  SHORT  CUT 

The  girl  drew  nearer,  with  no  tightening  of  reins 
upon  Gypsy's  headlong  speed.  Another  glimpse 
through  the  cedars  showed  her  that  there  was  some 
one  with  her  mother,  a  man,  broad  and  heavy  shoul 
dered.  He  turned^  hearing  the  pound  of  the  flying 
hoofs  through  the  still  air  as  she  came  on.  It  was  her 
father.  She  could  see  the  massive,  calm  face,  the 
white  hair  and  white  square  beard. 

She  was  barely  five  hundred  yards  from  the  foot 
of  the  knoll  when  she  saw  that  her  father  and 
mother  were  not  alone.  The  third  figure  had  been 
concealed  from  her  until  now  by  the  great  post 
standing  at  the  top  of  the  steps.  But  now  the  man 
sitting  there  rose  to  his  feet  and  turned  to  look  in 
the  direction  her  parents  were  looking.  A  sudden 
choking  came  into  the  girl's  throat,  a  quick  rush  of 
tears  into  her  dry  eyes.  She  drew  her  reins  tight, 
bringing  her  pony  down  into  a  trot,  then  to  a  walk. 
She  could  not  rush  on  like  this,  carrying  a  message 
of  grief  and  terror;  must  she  hasten  so  eagerly  to 
speak  the  word  that  was  going  to  make  life  so  differ 
ent  to  this  man? 

"  Oh,  how  can  I  tell  him?"  she  was  moaning. 
"  The  gladdest,  gayest,  happiest  boy  of  a  man  that 
ever  lived!  Will  he  ever  be  glad  again?  " 

Her  mother  had  waved  to  her,  her  father  was 
smiling,  proud  of  her  as  he  always  was  when  he  saw 
how  she  rode.  And  the  other  man  who  had  leaped 
to  his  feet  was  running  down  the  steps,  coming  to 
meet  her,  coming  to  meet  the  news  she  brought. 


CHAPTER  II 

THE    SHADOW 

THE  girl  drooped  her  head  a  little,  while 
Gypsy  walked  very  slowly.  Then  she 
looked  up  again,  swiftly,  saw  that  the  man 
was  coming  on  to  meet  her,  saw  the  great,  tall,  gaunt 
form,  marked  the  free  swinging  carriage  which  she 
had  noted  so  many  times  before,  noticed  the  way  he 
carried  his  head,  well  back,  saw  the  sunlight  splash 
ing  like  fire  in  the  red,  red  hair  that  in  some  fashion 
seemed  to  proclaim  red  blood  and  recklessness.  A 
young  man  he  was  with  mighty  hands  and  iron  body, 
with  life  leaping  high  in  his  laughing  eyes,  a  man  who 
might  have  been  some  pagan  god  of  youth  and  joy 
and  heedlessness. 

His  big  boots  brought  him  on  swiftly  until  he 
came  to  her  horse  and  she  stopped,  her  eyes  drop 
ping  before  his.  He  twined  his  fingers  in  Gypsy's 
mane  and  looked  up  into  her  face,  he  laughing 
softly. 

"  So  you've  ridden  back  to  us,  at  last."  His  voice 
was  in  tunfe  with  the  rest  of  him,  suggesting  the  wild- 
ness  and  recklessness  that  were  part  of  the  man's 
nature.  He  ran  on,  half  bantering,  half  softly 
wondering  at  the  loveliness  of  her.  "  Are  you 
pagan  nymph  or  Christian  maiden,  Wanda?"  he 

13 


14  THE  SHORT  CUT 

asked  a  little  seriously,  as  nearly  serious,  one  might 
have  said,  as  it  was  this  man's  nature  to  be. 

She  raised  her  lowered  eyes,  looking  at  him 
searchingly.  Then  he  saw  the  tears  that  at  last  were 
spilling  over,  the  face  from  which  the  colour  was 
going  again,  the  traces  of  horror  of  that  thing  which 
lay  far  back  there  under  the  pines. 

"Wanda!"  he  cried  sharply.  "You... 
There's  something  the  matter!  I've  been  running 
on  like  an  inspired  idiot  and  .  .  .  What  is  it, 
Wanda  ?" 

"Oh,"  she  said  desperately,  "it  is  terrible!  I 
can't  .  .  ."  She  choked  over  her  words.  But  they 
were  burning  the  soul  within  her,  and  she  ran  on 
hastily.  "  I  found  him  back  there  by  Echo  Creek 
crossing.  He  ...  he  is  dead." 

"Dead?"  repeated  the  man.  "Dead?  Who, 
Wanda?" 

"  Arthur !  "  she  whispered. 

"Arthur,  dead?"  he  muttered,  his  voice  oddly 
low  and  quiet.  "Arthur,  dead?  I  don't  under 
stand." 

"  He  is  dead,"  she  said  again  heavily.  "  Some 
one  shot  him." 

She  broke  off  and  began  to  sob.  He  looked  first 
at  her,  then  along  the  trail  she  had  ridden,  and 
finally,  taking  his  hand  from  her  horse's  mane  he 
turned  abruptly  and  strode  off  toward  the  house. 
He  mounted  the  steps  swiftly,  passed  her  father  and 
mother  without  a  word  in  answer  to  the  questioning 


THE  SHADOW  15 

faces  they  turned  toward  him,  entered  the  door  and 
returned  almost  immediately,  carrying  his  hat  in  his 
hand.  As  he  came  down  the  steps,  he  put  on  his 
hat  and  bent  his  head  a  little  so  that  she  could  not 
see  his  face.  He  passed  her  without  a  sign  and  went 
down  to  the  stable.  Then  she  rode  up  to  the  house 
and  slipped  from  her  saddle  at  the  foot  of  the  steps. 
Her  father  and  mother  hurried  to  meet  her. 

"  It  is  Arthur.  It  is  Wayne's  brother,"  cried 
Wanda  brokenly  from  her  mother's  arms.  "  He 
is  dead!" 

She  told  them  briefly,  hurriedly.  Her  father,  his 
eyes  strangely  hard  and  inscrutable  swore  softly  and 
turning  without  a  word  to  either  of  the  women  went 
back  to  the  house  as  Wayne  had  done,  got  his  hat 
and  hurried  to  the  stable.  His  voice,  hard  and  ex 
pressionless  like  his  eyes,  floated  up  to  them  as  he 
gave  his  brief  orders  to  Jim  to  drive  straight  back 
to  the  spot  Wanda  had  described.  The  girl  saw 
him  enter  the  stable  and  in  a  little  while  come  out, 
riding  a  saddled  horse.  Already  Wayne  Shandon 
had  ridden  off  along  the  trail,  travelling  with  a  fury 
of  speed  that  took  no  heed  of  the  miles  ahead  of 
him. 

Mother  and  daughter  turned  and  went  slowly  up 
the  steps,  their  arms  about  each  other,  their  cheeks 
wet. 

"Who  killed  him,  mamma?"  whispered  the  girl, 
her  moist  eyes  lifted.  "  Who  could  have  killed 
him?" 


1 6  THE  SHORT  CUT 

The  silent  tale  that  a  pearl  handled  revolver  had 
told  her  was  a  lie,  a  hideous  lie.  She  did  not  believe 
it,  she  was  never  going  to  believe  it.  For  an  instant 
there  had  been  a  horrible  suspicion  in  her  breast, 
then  her  loyalty  had  risen  and  crushed  it  and  killed 
it  and  cast  it  out.  But  now  she  sought  some  new 
explanation  to  take  its  place,  sought  it  with  intense 
eagerness. 

"Who  killed  him?"  Mother's  and  daughter's 
eyes  met  furtively  for  a  quick  second.  And  then  the 
mother's  answer  was  no  answer  at  all,  but  a  broken, 
tremulous  prayer :  "  Dear  God,  may  they  never  know 
who  did  this  thing !  " 

They  did  not  look  at  each  other  again  as  they 
crossed  the  length  of  the  veranda,  on  the  north  ex 
posure  of  the  great  square  house  and  turned  into 
the  spacious  living  room. 

"  I  am  going  to  my  room,  mamma,"  said  the  girl 
faintly.  "  I  want  to  be  alone  just  a  little." 

She  knew  that  her  mother  was  watching  her  as 
she  passed  through  the  living  room  and  out  through 
the  double  doors  to  the  veranda  at  the  east.  But 
she  did  not  turn.  She  did  not  ask  what  her  mother 
had  meant,  she  did  not  wish  to  know.  She  wanted 
just  now  more  than  anything  in  the  world,  to  be 
alone  in  her  own  room,  to  take  from  her  bosom 
the  thing  which  she  felt  every  one  would  know  she 
had  there,  to  hide  it  where  it  would  be  safe. 

To  the  east  of  the  house  in  a  little  sheltered  hollow 
her  father,  twenty  years  ago,  had  planted  an 


THE  SHADOW  17 

orchard.  She  could  see  the  white  and  delicate  pink 
of  the  blossoms,  could  catch  the  hint  of  perfume 
that  a  little  frolicking  breeze  brought  to  her. 

She  heard  voices  out  there  and  saw  two  men  com 
ing  toward  the  house.  There  came  to  her  ears,  too, 
the  sound  of  cool,  contemptuous  laughter.  She 
knew  who  it  was  insolently  jeering  at  the  other, 
knew  before  she  saw  them  that  it  was  the  big, 
splendidly  big  fellow,  as  tall  as  Red  Reckless  and 
heavier,  who  was  known  to  her  only  as  "  Sledge  " 
Hume.  She  had  heard  her  father  say  last  night  that 
both  Hume  and  Arthur  Shandon  were  coming  to-day 
upon  some  matter  of  business  in  which  the  three  men 
were  interested. 

"  You're  a  little  fool,  anyway,  Conway,"  the  deep 
voice  said  with  that  frank  impudence  which  was  a 
part  of  Hume. 

Garth  Conway,  not  a  small  man  by  two  inches  or 
fifty  pounds,  although  he  appeared  so  beside  his 
companion,  made  a  reply  which  Wanda  did  not  hear 
in  full,  but  which  reached  her  sufficiently  to  tell  her 
that  the  two  men  were  talking  about  some  trifling 
matter  of  range  management  and  that  his  theory  had 
provoked  Sledge  Hume's  blunt  comment.  The  two 
men  came  on,  Hume  striding  a  couple  of  paces  in 
front  of  Conway,  until  they  caught  sight  of  her. 
Conway  lifted  his  hat,  his  sullen  eyes  brightening. 
Hume,  staring  at  her  with  the  keen  eye  of  appraisal, 
did  not  trouble  himself  to  touch  his  hat  and  gave 
her  no  greeting  beyond  one  of  his  curt  nods. 


1 8  THE  SHORT  CUT 

"'  They  have  not  heard,"  Wanda  thought  with  a 
little  thrill  of  pity  for  Garth  Conway  who  was  so 
soon  to  learn  of  the  death  of  the  man  who  had  been 
more  like  a  brother  than  cousin  to  him.  "  Mamma 
will  tell  them." 

She  hurried  down  the  veranda  to  her  room  which 
was  at  the  far  end,  at  the  southeast  corner  of  the 
house.  But  she  paused  at  the  door  as  she  heard 
her  mother's  voice,  shaken  and  tearful,  and  the  reply 
that  one  of  the  men  made. 

It  was  Garth  Conway.  As  though  the  utterance 
were  drawn  from  him  by  the  shock  of  the  surprise, 
jerked  from  him  involuntarily,  he  cried: 

"Dead?  Murdered?  My  God!  And  he  and 
Wayne  quarrelled.  .  .  ." 

u  Go  on!  "  It  was  Sledge  Hume's  heavy,  colour 
less  voice.  "  Just  because  two  men  quarrel  it 
doesn't  mean  that  one  kills  the  other,  does  it?" 

"Garth!"  cried  Mrs.  Leland.  "You 
mustn't  .  .  ." 

"  I  didn't  say  that,"  cried  Conway.  "  I  didn't 
mean  .  .  ." 

Wanda  waited  to  hear  no  more.  She  hurried  into 
her  room,  to  stand  there  trembling  behind  the  closed 
door,  her  face  as  white  as  that  other  face  she  had 
looked  upon  earlier  in  the  day. 

"  He  didn't  do  it!  "  she  whispered.  "  He  didn't. 
I  know  he  didn't." 

But  the  thing  which  she  carried  in  her  bosom 
seemed  to  be  demanding  rudely:  "Must  you  shut 


THE  SHADOW  19 

your  eyes  to  believe  with  your  heart  ?  "  And  if  other 
eyes  than  her  own  saw  it? 

There  was  her  closet,  the  open  door  showing  the 
party  dresses  she  had  brought  back  from  school. 
She  shook  her  head.  Her  room  was  so  plainly  fur 
nished  with  just  a  little  dressing  table,  her  bed,  a 
chair,  a  stand  with  some  wild  flowers  on  it,  a  smaller 
table  with  half  a  dozen  books  scattered  about. 
Then  her  eyes  rested  on  the  big  trunk  which  had  not 
yet  been  carried  down  into  the  basement. 

Running  to  it  she  flung  up  the  lid  and  jerked  out 
the  tray.  The  bottom  was  half  filled  with  odds  and 
ends,  stockings,  slippers,  linen.  She  took  the 
revolver  from  her  bosom,  dropped  it  to  the  bot 
tom  of  the  trunk,  covered  it  hastily  with  loose  cloth 
ing,  replaced  the  tray  and  closed  the  lid.  But  she 
could  not  feel  that  her  secret  was  safe  until  she  had 
found  the  key  on  her  dressing  table.  The  lock  was 
troublesome,  it  was  always  troublesome.  She  was 
down  on  her  knees,  had  just  heard  the  little  click 
which  told  her  that  the  lock  was  fast,  and  was  trying 
to  work  the  key  out  again  when  the  door  opened 
softly  and  her  mother  came  in. 

For  a  moment  the  two  women,  motionless,  looked 
at  each  other  fixedly.  Then  Wanda  rose  slowly  to 
her  feet,  a  little  red  flush  colouring  her  brow,  a 
fear  which  she  knew  absurd  and  yet  which  she  could 
not  crush  down,  rising  into  her  fluttering  breast. 
Then  Mrs.  Leland  closed  the  door  behind  her,  and 
stood  with  her  back  to  it. 


20  THE  SHORT  CUT 

"Will  you  tell  me  about  it,  Wanda,  dear?" 

Her  voice  was  troubled;  her  frank  eyes,  so  like 
her  daughter's,  were  at  once  sad  and  anxious. 

"  It  is  too  horrible,  mamma."  Wanda  closed  her 
eyes  tightly  for  a  moment,  trying  to  shut  out  the 
picture  which  burned  so  in  her  brain.  Every  little 
detail  stood  out  in  her  memory  clear  cut  and  vivid, 
the  grass  trampled  into  a  rude  circle,  the  hand  that 
clung  in  death  to  what  it  had  last  grasped  in  life, 
the  grotesquely  crumpled,  huddled  body. 

"  Tell  me  about  it,  Wanda."  Her  mother  was 
looking  into  the  frankly  distressed  face,  curiously. 
Wanda  had  again  the  uneasy  idea  that  her  mother 
was  wondering  about  the  trunk  which  she  had 
just  locked,  and  again  a  quick  fear  leaped  up  within 
her  that  she  might  guess  the  secret  it  concealed. 

"  How  did  you  happen  to  find  him?  " 

"  Shep  was  with  me,  running  ahead.  Shep  found 
him." 

"  And  some  one  had  killed  him?  " 

Wanda  nodded,  her  lips  tight  pressed  together, 
her  hands  twisting  about  each  other  in  her  lap. 
For  a  moment  there  was  silence  in  the  little  room. 

"  Wanda,  look  at  me,  dear." 

Her  eyes  turned,  wondering,  from  the  window 
and  the  orchard  beyond,  and  went  swiftly  to  her 
mother.  The  words  were  very  clearly  a  command 
now.  The  voice  was  lowered  a  little  but  had  grown 
more  insistent.  And  it  seemed  to  her  that  Mrs. 
Leland's  eyes  had  in  them  now  something  more  than 


LTHE  SHADOW  21 

sadness  and  anxiety,  that  they  were  suspicious. 
Again  Wanda  felt  the  hot  blood  in  her  temples. 

"  What  is  it,  mamma?  " 

"  Who  killed  Arthur?     Do  you  know?  " 

"  Mamma !  "  she  cried,  startled.  "  Why  do  you 
ask  that?  What  do  you  mean?  " 

"  I  want  to  know,  dear.  Do  you  know  who 
killed  him?" 

"  No."  It  was  plain  that  she  was  troubled,  it 
was  equally  as  plain  that  she  spoke  truthfully. 
"  What  makes  you  think  .  .  .  Why  do  you  ask 
that?" 

"  I  thought,"  replied  Mrs.  Leland,  a  little  un 
easily,  "  that  you  might  have  seen  something,  found 
something.  .  .  ." 

"  No,  no !  "  cried  the  girl  impulsively.  "  I  know 
what  you  mean.  I  have  no  vaguest  idea  who  could 
have  done  it !  " 

The  older  woman  came  across  the  room  and  sat 
down  at  her  daughter's  side,  putting  her  arm  about 
the  slender  form. 

"  Wanda,  dear,"  she  said  softly.  "  I  am  going 
to  tell  you  something  which  you  don't  know  yet. 
Wayne  quarrelled  with  Arthur  last  night!  " 

The  girl's  body  stiffened  convulsively.  She 
wanted  to  spring  up  and  run  out  of  the  house  to 
some  hiding  place  in  the  old  orchard  and  be  alone. 
But  she  answered,  her  eyes  clear  and  truthful. 

"  I'm  sorry.  Oh,  so  sorry !  Poor  Wayne. 
That  will  make  it  so  much  harder  for  him." 


22  THE  SHORT  CUT 

'  Yes.  It  is  going  to  make  it  hard  for  him, 
Wanda.  Harder  than  you  have  imagined."  She 
paused  as  if  considering  the  advisability  of  what  she 
had  started  to  say,  and  then  ended  simply,  hope 
lessly,  "  They  are  going  to  think  that  Wayne  shot 
him!" 

"They  mustn't!"  cried  Wanda  hotly.  "They 
haven't  the  right.  It  would  be  thinking  a  lie,  a 
wicked,  hideous  lie !  " 

Mrs.  Leland  shook  her  head  sadly. 

"  Wanda,"  she  went  on  quietly,  "  the  first  thing 
Garth  said  when  I  told  him  was  that  Wayne  had 
quarrelled  with  Arthur  last  night.  I  don't  mind  so 
much  what  Garth  says  and  does,  but  ...  I  think 
that  Martin  is  going  to  suspect  Wayne  of  this,  if  he 
doesn't  already  suspect  him." 

"  But,  surely  father  isn't  so  unjust,  just  because 
he  doesn't  like  Wayne  .  .  ." 

"  If  it  were  nothing  more  than  just  not  liking  him ! 
Your  father  isn't  capable  of  a  feeling  that  is  merely 
negative  about  people,  child.  He  hated  the  boys' 
father;  Wayne  I  think  he  hates  as  bitterly." 

"But  why,  mamma?  Surely  there  is  no  rea 
son  .  .  ." 

"  Men,  strong  men  like  your  father,  don't  always 
wait  for  reasons,  Wanda,"  said  Mrs.  Leland  gently. 
"  He  has  never  forgotten  that  had  circumstances 
been  a  very,  very  little  different  I  might  have  mar 
ried  the  other  Wayne  Shandon.  When  we  were 
married  and  the  other  Wayne  Shandon  bought  land 


THE  SHADOW  23 

so  close  to  us  your  father  was  the  angriest  man  I 
ever  saw.  That  was  before  your  time,  dear.  He 
rode  across  the  valley  the  next  day;  he  has  never 
told  me  what  happened  but  his  face  was  still  white 
when  he  came  home.  There  are  only  a  few  things 
which  can  stir  Martin  into  a  passion  like  that." 

"  But,  surely,  mamma  .  .  ." 

"  When  the  other  Wayne  Shandon  married  and 
the  boys  were  born  it  made  no  difference  with  Mar 
tin.  When  the  other  Wayne  Shandon  died  and  his 
wife  died  and  the  boys  were  left  the  hatred  in  your 
father's  breast  did  not  die  with  them.  He  trans 
ferred  it  to  Arthur  and  the  Wayne  you  know. 
Toward  Wayne  especially  it  has  grown  strong  and 
bitter." 

"  But  why  to  him  more  than  to  Arthur  ?  " 

"  Because,  my  dear,  Wayne  is  his  father  over  and 
over  again !  Because  he  has  the  same  red  hair  and 
the  same  eyes  with  the  same  way  of  laughing.  Be 
cause  his  voice  is  the  same,  his  carriage  is  the  same, 
his  mad,  reckless  heart  the  same.  Because  every- 
time  that  Martin  sees  the  Wayne  Shandon  that  you 
know  he  sees  the  old  Wayne  Shandon  I  knew  .  .  . 
and  he  hated." 

"  But  it  can't  be  that  if  a  man  hates  another,  and 
he  dies,  the  man  will  go  on  hating  his  son  just  for 
being  his  son!  Father  is  not  so  unjust  "as  that, 
mamma !  He  will  not  suspect  Wayne  of  murder,  of 
murdering  his  own  brother,  just  because  of  his 
father!" 


24  THE  SHORT  CUT 

Mrs.  Leland's  hands  were  interlocked  tensely. 

;t  There  are  other  reasons,  there  will  be  other 
things  remembered  about  the  boy  which  will  make 
suspicion  so  easy." 

"  I  know  what  you  mean,"  the  girl  cried,  breath 
ing  deeply.  "  He  is  reckless,  he  is  wild,  I  know. 
He  gambles,  he  has  quarrels  with  many  men.  He 
does  things  that  we  would  not  do,  but  then  we  are 
women!  He  does  things  that  father  would  not  do, 
but  then  father  is  not  young  any  longer!  He  is 
wild  because  his  nature  is  inherited  from  his  father; 
it's  in  his  blood,  he's  young  and  he  has  grown  up 
with  the  far  out  places.  But  he  is  not  bad !  He  is 
not  the  kind  of  man  to  do  a  thing  like  this.  What 
do  men  call  him,  men  who  know  him  and  what  he  is? 
They  don't  call  him  Coward,  they  don't  call  him 
Cheat,  they  don't  call  him  mean  or  dishonest  or 
ungenerous!  They  call  him  Reckless,  Red  Reck 
less,  and  they  love  him!  Oh,  mamma,  can't  you 
see  that  it  is  impossible  .  .  ." 

Mrs.  Leland  rose  to  her  feet,  her  face  grown 
suddenly  pinched  and  white. 

"  I  don't  know,"  she  said  with  a  sigh. 

"  You  believe  it  too !  "  cried  the  girl.  "  You 
think  that  Wayne  Shandon  killed  his  own  brother !  " 

A  delicate  flush  stained  her  mother's  cheeks. 

"  Wanda,  child,  you  mustn't  say  that,"  she  almost 
whispered.  "  I  don't  believe  it.  I  won't  believe 
it.  And  if  I  did  ...  Wanda,  I'd  remember  the 
man  his  father  was,  the  gentleman,  the  true-hearted 


THE  SHADOW  25; 

gentleman,  and  I  should  say  that  I  did  not  believe." 
Then,    turning   quickly    so    that   her   wondering 
daughter  could  not  see  the  eyes  that  were  blurred 
with  a  mist  of  tears,  she  left  the  room. 

When  she  had  gone  Wanda  snatched  up  the  trunk 
key  from  her  table  and  thrust  it  quickly  into  her 
bosom.  Then  she  sat  down  again  on  the  edge  of 
her  bed  and  stared  out  toward  the  orchard  where 
the  sunlight  lay  bright  and  warm  upon  the  apple 
blossoms  .  .  .  and  saw  only  the  quiet  body  by  Echo 
Creek,  that  and  the  face  of  the  man  people  called 
Red  Reckless. 


CHAPTER  III 

SUSPICION 

WHY  had  her  mother  come  to  her  in  such  a 
way?  Why  had  she  been  so  quick  to  see 
what  people  would  say?  Did  she  believe 
that  Wayne  Shandon  had  killed  Arthur;  was  she 
afraid  that  Wanda  might  have  found  something  that 
would  incriminate  him;  and  did  she  want  to  warn 
her  of  what  the  inevitable  result  of  such  a  disclosure 
would  be? 

And  she  had  found  something!  She  had  known 
from  the  first  sight  of  it,  half  hidden  by  Shep's  eager 
paws,  that  it  was  Wayne  Shandon's.  He  had 
shown  it  to  her  only  last  week. 

"  I  am  going  to  teach  you  to  shoot  as  I  shoot," 
he  had  laughed,  bringing  the  revolver  out  of  his 
pocket.  :<  Then  I  am  going  to  give  it  to  you.  And 
then  you  are  going  to  make  me  a  pretty  bow  and 
give  me  a  pretty  smile  and  say,  *  Thank  you,  Red/ 
as  you  did  when  I  chastised  your  first  suitor!  Re 
member,  Wanda?  " 

"  Only  I  don't  call  you  '  Red  '  any  more,"  she  had 
laughed  back  at  him.  "  We're  grown  up  now,  you 
know,  and  Wayne  is  much  more  dignified  and  .  .  . 
and  respectful." 

"  And  you  can  handle  your  own  suitors  now,"  he 

26 


SUSPICION  27 

had  retorted.  "  More  artistically  and  with  equal 
finality!" 

Only  a  week  ago  out  there  in  the  orchard  where 
now  the  sunlight  lay  in  golden  splashes  over  the  fruit 
trees,  she  and  Red  Reckless  had  bantered  each  other 
as  they  strolled  toward  the  house  where  Arthur  was 
sitting  on  the  veranda  with  her  mother,  watching 
them.  It  was  a  sparkling  morning  like  to-day's, 
and  they  had  spoken  of  the  old  school  days  before 
Mr.  Shandon  sent  his  two  sons  to  the  East  to  school, 
of  the  time  when  she  was  eight  and  he  was  fifteen 
and  he  had  "  licked  "  a  boy  whom  she  did  not  like 
but  who  was  stubborn  in  vowing  that  the  little  girl 
should  eat  a  red  cheeked  apple  he  had  brought  her. 
A  week  ago,  and  now  Arthur  Shandon  was  dead 
and  men  were  ready  to  believe  that  Wayne  Shandon 
had  killed  him. 

She  sat  very  still,  while  her  mind  wandered  in 
many  directions.  The  old  days  rose  up  vividly 
bringing  back  the  young  faces  of  Arthur  and  Wayne 
and  Garth  Conway, —  they  had  all  played  Prisoner's 
Base  and  Anti-over  at  the  little  white  school  house 
down  in  the  valley.  She  remembered  the  day  when 
a  letter  came  from  Mr.  Shandon  summoning  Arthur 
and  Wayne  and  Garth  to  the  East,  and  how  merry 
the  boys  had  been  over  it.  She  missed  them  dread 
fully  after  they  went  away  until  vacation  came  and 
her  own  father  had  taken  her  with  him  on  a  tour 
of  inspection  to  his  four  other  ranches,  up  and  down 
the  State.  For  three  years  she  did  not  see  the  three 


28  THE  SHORT  CUT 

boys,  their  letters  had  ceased,  and  she  was  well  on 
the  way  to  forget  her  playfellows.  And  then,  when 
she  was  twelve  and  Wayne  Shandon  nineteen,  he 
had  come  back. 

He  had  run  away.  He  had  quarrelled  with  his 
father,  and  Arthur  had  tried  to  show  him  that  he  was 
unreasonable.  Then  the  boy's  hot  temper  had 
flashed  out  at  his  brother  and  finally  at  Garth  Con- 
way  who  had  long  been  accustomed  to  thinking  as 
Arthur  Shandon  thought.  So  the  youth,  in  whom 
love  of  adventure  and  hatred  of  restraint  were  al 
ready  marked  characteristics,  had  sold  his  books,  the 
saddle  pony  which  his  father's  generosity  had  given 
him,  his  guns  and  fishing  tackle,  in  fact  everything 
which  he  might  sell  even  to  his  spare  clothing,  had 
caught  a  night  train  and  come  West  again. 

Wanda's  mother  had  tried  to  reason  with  the  boy 
when  he  came  to  them,  laughing  at  the  trick  he  had 
played  his  father,  full  of  mockery  of  the  hidebound 
ways  of  cities,  and  had  wanted  to  send  him  back  to 
Mr.  Shandon.  She  had  cried  a  little  over  him  and 
kissed  him  and  talked  gently  with  him  as  was  her 
motherly  way.  But  Wanda's  father  berated  him 
severely  and  sternly  and  Wayne  flushed  and  bit  his 
lip  and  then  went  away  from  them  as  he  had  gone 
away  from  the  East. 

More  years,  happy  years  for  Wanda  Leland, 
sped  by  and  she  did  not  see  the  boy.  Both  Arthur 
and  Garth  came  in  the  long  summer  vacations  to 
Mr.  Shandon's  range  and  were  frequent  visitors  at 


SUSPICION  29 

the  Echo  Creek  place.  Word  came  now  and  then 
of  Wayne  Shandon,  sometimes  by  infrequent  and 
unsatisfactory  short  letters  from  him,  more  often  in 
elaborately  embroidered  rumour  from  men  making 
long  trips  across  the  country.  He  had  gone  to  work 
for  a  cattle  outfit,  taking  a  dollar  a  day  and  doing 
an  ordinary  cowboy's  work.  Even  before  he  was 
twenty-one,  men  called  him  Red  Reckless.  He  had 
learned  to  gamble,  and  to  gamble  for  big  stakes. 
He  played  poker;  he  took  his  chance  with  the 
"bank";  but  he  loved  the  dice.  They  were 
quicker;  a  man  could  "make  or  break"  at  one 
throw.  It  was  his  way  to  hazard  everything  on  a 
throw,  to  laugh  if  he  won,  to  laugh  if  he  lost. 

Rumour  said  that  he  had  been  shot  by  a  notorious 
gambler,  Dash  Dulac;  and  had  come  near  dying; 
that  he  had  shot  another  man  up  at  Spanish  Dry 
Diggings  where  he  had  rushed  with  a  frantic  flood 
of  men  on  news  of  a  golden  strike;  that  he  had 
been  sucked  away  with  another  flux  of  gold  seekers 
to  the  Yukon  country  where  he  had  lived  lawlessly 
with  his  lawless  companions;  that  he  had  drifted 
back  to  the  lumber  camps  of  the  mountains;  that  at 
last  he  had  returned  to  the  cattle  country. 

Wanda  had  gone  away  to  school  in  the  East,  spend 
ing  only  her  summers  upon  the  Echo  Creek  ranch. 
She  had  seen  very  little  of  Wayne  Shandon.  When 
Mr.  Shandon  died,  leaving  his  wide  reaching  cattle 
range  to  his  elder  son,  Arthur  had  come  promptly 
to  take  charge  of  the  Bar  L-M  Outfit,  and  Garth 


30  THE  SHORT  CUT 

Conway  had  come  with  him  as  foreman  and  general 
manager  under  him.  Arthur,  whose  affection  for 
his  stormy  souled  brother  had  lasted  strong  through 
the  years,  had  at  last  prevailed  upon  Wayne  to 
"  come  home  "  and  to  go  to  work  for  him.  That 
had  been  a  year  ago. 

A  light  knock  at  her  door  brought  back  her  wan 
dering  thoughts  to  to-day,  to  Arthur  Shandon,  to 
the  suspicion  which  was  so  quickly  lifting  its  ven 
omous  head.  She  rose  from  the  bed,  pushed  back 
the  hair  which  had  fallen  unnoticed  into  confusion 
about  her  cheeks,  and  said  softly, 

u  Come  in,  mamma." 

"  We  were  just  going  to  have  lunch  when  you 
came,  Wanda,"  her  mother  said  quietly.  "  iYou 
must  come  and  have  a  cup  of  tea." 

"Mamma!     I  can't." 

"  But  you  can !  "  Her  mother  smiled  a  little  at 
her  and  patted  the  restless  hand  she  took  in  her  own. 
"  You  had  a  very  early  breakfast  and  you  must 
have  a  cup  of  tea." 

Together  they  went  back  to  the  dining  room. 

"Where  are  Garth  and  Mr.  Hume?"  asked 
Wanda. 

"They  have  gone  .  .  .  with  the  others,  dear," 
Mrs.  Leland  told  her. 

The  two  women  sat  down  in  silence.  Wanda 
forced  herself  to  drink  half  of  her  tea  and  pushed 
the  cup  away  from  her.  She  got  swiftly  to  her  feet 
and  leaving  the  room,  went  out  upon  the  north 


SUSPICION  3* 

veranda,  where  she  saw  Julia,  the  cook,  standing  at 
the  window,  her  red  hands  upon  her  broad  hips> 
her  eyes  even  redder  than  her  hands.  On  the  win 
dow  sill  were  half  a  dozen  fresh,  hot  pies  which 
Julia  had  made  for  "  the  boys  "... 

Wanda  bit  her  lips  and  her  eyes  went  whither 
her  mother's  had  gone,  down  the  trail  along  which 
the  men  had  ridden  to  the  creek. 

It  seemed  a  very  long  time  before  she  saw  them. 
The  wagon,  with  Jim  driving  slowly  and  carefully, 
climbed  over  a  ridge  and  wound  its  way  down  into 
the  valley.  Her  father,  Garth,  and  Sledge  Hume, 
were  riding  behind  it,  abreast  and  close  together. 
Wayne  Shandon  farther  back  was  riding  alone, 
his  head  down,  his  hat  drawn  low  over  his 
brows. 

At  last  she  could  see  the  faces  shaded  by  the  wide 
brimmed  hats.  They  were  strangely  alike  in  their 
hard,  set  expression,  the  gravity  which  told  little. 
These  were  not,  any  of  them,  men  given  to  wearing 
their  deeper  emotions  on  their  sleeves.  Her  eyes 
ran  to  Wayne  Shandon's  face  first.  It  was  white, 
the  mouth  was  sterner  than  she  had  ever  thought 
Red  Reckless'  laughing  mouth  could  be,  the  eyes 
were  hard  and  inscrutable. 

From  him  she  looked  anxiously  at  her  father, 
then  at  Sledge  Hume,  then  at  Garth  Conway.  And 
these  faces,  stern  like  Wayne's,  sent  a  little  shiver 
of  fear  through  her. 

Her  mother  went  out  to  meet  the  wagon,  crying 


32  THE  SHORT  CUT 

quietly.  Wanda  felt  the  tears  rush  with  a  hotness 
like  fire  into  her  own  eyes,  and  then  she  turned  and 
hurrying  out  of  sight  of  the  slow  procession  ran 
down  to  the  orchard.  She  was  lying  there,  face 
down,  sobbing  like  a  child,  when  she  felt  a  shadow 
over  her,  heard  a  man's  spurs  jingle,  and  knew  who 
it  was  that  had  come  out  to  her. 

She  looked  up  at  him,  wondering. 

"  Wanda,"  he  said  very  quietly,  his  voice 
strangely  steady,  "  it  was  good  of  you  to  give  him 
your  hat.  If  I  were  dead  and  you  did  a  thing  like 
that  for  me  I  think  I  should  come  back  to  life  to  kiss 
your  dear  hands." 

This  was  so  like  him!  Oh,  just  the  thing  Red 
Reckless  would  do!  The  little  thoughtful  act  of 
hers  had  stirred  him  more  deeply  than  most  men 
are  moved  even  by  big  things;  and  the  impulse  had 
come  to  him  to  go  straight  to  her  and  thank  her. 
And  he  was  a  man  who  obeyed  impulses. 

The  other  men  had  entered  the  house  for  their 
lunch.  It  seemed  horrible  to  her  that  people  should 
be  able  to  eat  at  a  time  like  this.  Wayne  Shandon 
spoke  to  her  again. 

"  Your  father  is  going  to  let  Jim  go  with  me," 
he  said.  "  We  are  going  to  El  Toyon.  Then  I 
am  going  to  take  him  back  East." 

"  East !  "  she  exclaimed. 

"  Yes.  I  have  a  fancy  he'd  like  to  be  buried 
close  to  dad." 

"  You  are  coming  back  soon?  " 


SUSPICION  33 

"  Immediately.  Within  ten  days,  I  think. 
Good-bye,  Wanda." 

"  Wait  a  minute,"  she  hesitated.  "  I  want  to 
think." 

She  had  not  meant  to  tell  him  so  soon,  in  the  first 
shock  of  the  death,  about  what  she  had  found.  But 
he  was  going  away,  and  he  ought  to  know,  it  was 
his  right  to  know. 

;<  Will  you  wait  here  for  me  a  moment,  Wayne?  " 
she  asked  looking  pitifully  up  into  the  face  of  the 
man  whose  grave  eyes  were  fixed  upon  her.  "  Un 
til  I  run  to  the  house  and  get  something?  " 

She  was  glad  then  that  the  other  men  were  able 
to  eat,  and  that  her  mother  and  Julia  were  waiting 
on  them.  Hastening  back  to  her  room,  she  took 
the  revolver  from  its  hiding  place  in  her  trunk, 
slipped  it  into  her  blouse  and  ran  back  to  the 
orchard. 

"  Wayne,"  she  whispered  coming  close  to  him, 
suspicious  of  every  little  sound  in  the  orchard,  fear 
ful  of  an  approaching  footstep.  "  I  found  some 
thing  near  Arthur.  I  did  not  tell  any  one.  As  you 
are  going  away  I  had  better  tell  you." 

She  held  out  the  revolver.  The  sunlight  fell 
on  it,  glinting  brightly  from  the  polished  silver. 
Wayne  Shandon  stared  at  it  frowning,  as  though 
he  could  not  or  would  not  believe  his  eyes.  Slowly 
a  deeper  pallor  crept  into  his  white  face.  Then  a 
terrible  look  which  the  girl  could  not  read  came  into 
his  eyes. 


34  THE  SHORT  CUT 

"Good  God!"  he  whispered  hoarsely.  "  You 
found  that  near  him?" 

Suddenly  he  put  his  hand  out  and  took  it.  His 
fingers  touched  hers.  [They  were  as  cold  as  ice. 

;<  Wanda,"  he  said,  his  voice  frightening  her,  it 
was  so  hard  and  unfamiliar,  "  you  were  good  to 
give  it  to  me." 

That  was  all.  She  felt  vaguely  that  his  mind 
was  groping  for  other  words  which  it  could  not  find. 
He  slipped  the  revolver  into  his  pocket,  turned  and 
left  her. 

From  the  orchard  she  watched  him  ride  away. 
Jim  was  driving  the  two  big  greys,  while  Shandon 
followed  close  behind  the  wagon,  sitting  very 
straight  in  the  saddle,  his  face  telling  her  nothing. 
.  .  .  She  sank  back  upon  the  grass  under  the  apple 
tree  and  lay  still,  staring  up  at  the  patches  of  blue 
seen  through  the  green  and  white  of  the  branches 
and  blossoms. 

When  at  last  she  went  back  to  the  house  she  heard 
her  father's  voice  lifted  angrily.  He  was  talking  to 
her  mother  and  the  name  flung  furiously  from  his 
lips  was  the  name  of  Wayne  Shandon. 

"  Hush,  Martin,"  protested  Mrs.  Leland. 
"  You  mustn't  .  .  ." 

Martin  Leland,  his  face  red,  his  mouth  working 
wordlessly,  swept  up  his  hat  and  went  away  to  the 
corrals  by  the  stable.  Wanda  saw  his  eyes  as  he 
brushed  by  her  and  she  shivered,  drawing  away  from 
him. 


SUSPICION  35 

Garth  Conway  had  already  gone,  riding  the  half 
dozen  miles  to  the  Bar  L-M  to  carry  word  of  the 
death  of  its  owner,  and  to  assume  entire  charge  there 
until  Wayne  should  return.  Sledge  Hume  was 
loitering  down  by  the  stable. 

The  day  passed,  strangely  silent.  No  reference 
was  made  in  the  Leland  household  to  the  tragedy 
which  had  stirred  each  member  of  it  so  deeply,  so 
differently.  Throughout  the  long  afternoon  Mar 
tin  Leland  remained  among  his  cattle  and  horses, 
often  flaring  into  anger  at  trifles.  Mrs.  Leland  was 
in  her  room,  alone,  suffering  as  she  might  have  suf 
fered  had  Arthur  and  Wayne  been  the  sons  nature 
had  denied  to  her.  Wanda  wandered  restlessly 
back  and  forth,  from  the  house  to  the  stable,  about 
the  yard,  where  the  pigeons  whirled  and  circled 
and  cooed. 

The  days  which  followed  were  like  this  one, 
silent,  tense,  expectant.  It  was  as  though  each  one 
of  these  people  was  waiting  for  something,  all  but 
breathless.  MacKelvey,  a  heavy  set,  quick  eyed 
man,  the  county  sheriff,  came  one  day  and  talked  long 
with  Martin  Leland.  The  two  sat  for  an  hour  on 
the  corral  fence  below  the  stable.  After  that  Mac 
Kelvey  went  away  and  the  waiting,  the  tense  expect 
ancy  was  more  marked  than  before. 

The  tenth  day  came  and  went  its  laughing,  blue 
way.  Wayne  Shandon  did  not  come  with  it,  but 
Garth  Conway  rode  over  that  evening.  He  had 
had  no  word  from  Wayne,  although  he  was  expect- 


36  THE  SHORT  CUT 

ing  him  hourly.  Two  weeks  passed,  and  still  no 
word  from  Wayne.  One  by  one,  slowly,  heavily 
the  days  went  by. 

Then  at  last  Garth  Conway  rode  again  to  the 
Leland  ranch  house  and  brought  tidings  of  Wayne. 
He  had  tired  of  New  York,  but  he  was  not  yet  com 
ing  West.  Instead  he  was  sailing  for  Europe,  and 
would  probably  go  down  into  Africa  for  some  hunt 
ing.  > 

"Where  does  he  get  the  money ?"  demanded 
Martin  Leland  sharply. 

Garth's  short  laugh  was  rather  full  answer.  But 
he  elaborated  it  into  words. 

"  I  am  to  rush  a  forced  sale  of  cattle/'  he  said, 
lifting  his  shoulders.  "  He  wants  two  thousand 
dollars  in  a  hurry.  God  knows  what  for.  He  is 
going  to  fritter  his  property  away  just  as  he  fritters 
away  everything!  " 

Leland  sprang  up  from  his  chair,  his  two  fists 
clenched  and  lifted  high  above  his  head,  his  eyes 
blazing. 

"Martin!     Martin!"   cried  Mrs.  Leland. 

He  dropped  his  hands  to  his  sides  and  turned 
away,  the  words  on  his  tongue  checked. 

"  Dear  God,"  Wanda  prayed  within  her  soul. 
"  Let  him  be  a  man.  Let  him  come  back  soon. 
Before  every  one  believes  he  did  that  thing,  before 
.  .  .  they  send  for  him!  " 


CHAPTER  IV 

THE   WHITE    HUNTRESS 

TWO  months,  filled  with  the  clean  breath  of 
outdoors,  had  softened  the  memory  of  that 
stark  tragedy  upon  which  Wanda  had  come 
at  the  edge  of  Echo  Creek.  Not  forgotten,  never  to 
be  wiped  clean  from  the  memory,  still  the  keen  horror 
was  dulled,  the  harsh  details  blurred,  the  whole 
dreadful  picture  softened  under  the  web  which  the 
spider  of  time  weaves  over  an  old  canvas. 

Again  life  was  glad  and  good  and  golden.  Again 
youth  was  eager  and  hopeful  and  merry.  The  death 
which  had  come  and  changed  the  world  had  gone, 
leaving  the  world  as  it  has  always  been. 

Wanda  and  Gypsy  and  Shep  saw  much  of  one  an 
other.  They  were  all  very  happy,  perhaps  because 
they  were  very  busy.  Full  of  enthusiasm  that  was 
at  once  gay  and  serious  Wanda  had  thrown  herself 
into  her  "  Work  "  immediately  upon  returning  home 
in  the  early  springtime.  Before  the  tragic  event 
which  for  the  time  had  driven  her  life  out  of  its 
groove  she  had  already  won  for  herself  the  title, 
bestowed  merrily  by  Wayne  Shandon,  of  the 
"White  Huntress."  Her  "work,"  to  which  she 
gave  up  so  many  hours  of  each  day,  was  purposeful, 
steadily  pursued,  and  brought  her  a  vast  pleasure. 

37 


38  THE  SHORT  CUT 

The  game  she  hunted  was  the  squirrel  tossing  his 
grey  body  through  the  branches  of  pine  and  cedar, 
the  quail  calling  from  the  hillsides,  the  cottontail 
scampering  through  the  underbrush,  the  yellowham- 
mer,  the  woodpecker,  the  wide  winged  butterflies 
sailing  through  the  orchard  and  across  the  meadow 
lands.  The  weapon  with  which  she  hunted  was  a 
*  camera  which  she  carried  in  its  black  case  slung  over 
her  shoulder  or  hanging  from  the  horn  of  Gypsy's 
saddle. 

Reared  since  babyhood  in  a  land  where  men  and 
women  were  few  and  where  the  wild  things  of  the 
forests  were  many  and  unafraid,  she  had  long  ago 
come  to  look  upon  the  little,  bright  eyed  woodland 
folk  as  her  playmates.  Many  of  her  childhood  sor 
rows  and  joys  were  linked  with  their  fates.  Her 
first  great  grief  had  occurred  when  she  was  ten 
years  old  and  Jule,  her  brown  bear  cub, — •  named 
after  the  cook  to  whom  he  bore  in  the  child's  eyes  a 
marked  resemblance,  a  slight  and  necessary  vari 
ation  in  the  termination  of  the  name  taking  care  of 
the  matter  of  a  difference  in  sex, —  came  to  an  un 
timely  end  through  the  instinctive  and  merciless 
conduct  of  Shep's  grandparents.  The  house  was 
filled  with  chipmunks  who  frightened  Julia,  to  whom 
they  were  "  jest  rats,  drat  'em,"  and  who  raided  the 
kitchen  systematically.  A  trained  grey  squirrel 
barked  from  the  trees  above  the  house,  and  pet  rab 
bits  were  numerous  and  unprofitable  about  the  vege 
table  garden.  At  the  age  when  little  girls  in  the 


THE  WHITE  HUNTRESS  39 

cities  were  dressing  and  undressing  their  dolls, 
Wanda  was  taming  a  palpitating  heart  in  some  little 
fury  breast  or  leaning  breathlessly,  like  a  small 
mother  bird  herself,  over  a  nest  in  the  grass  watch 
ing  eagerly  for  the  tender  bills  to  peck  and  chip 
their  way  out  into  the  wonderful  world. 

It  was  but  natural  therefore  that  after  her  child 
hood  had  gone  and  she  had  outgrown  her  passion 
for  numberless  pets  overrunning  the  house  just  as 
her  sisters  in  the  cities  had  outgrown  their  pleasure 
in  dressing  and  undressing  dolls,  she  should  become 
the  "  White  Huntress."  She  loved  more  than  ever 
the  wildness  of  the  forest  lands,  and  the  ways  of  the 
woodland  things  were  wonderful  and  mysterious  to 
her.  And  now,  from  a  new  angle,  they  were  her 
study. 

There  were  days  when  she  rode  far  out  from  the 
ranch  house,  her  lunch  at  her  saddle  strings,  to  be 
gone  until  dusk  or  after  the  stars  came  out.  She 
would  leave  Gypsy  tethered  where  the  grass  was 
deep  and  rich,  command  Shep  to  lie  down  and 
see  that  nobody  ran  away  with  her  outfit,  and  then 
tramp  off  alone,  carrying  her  camera.  She  knew 
how  to  climb  up  into  the  tree  and  to  screen  herself 
behind  the  foliage,  so  that  she  might  watch  the 
mother  bird  and  her  ways,  and  find  out  when  she 
should  expect  the  joyous  miracle  of  new  life. 

When  the  eggs  were  hatched  Wanda  was  ready. 
Days  before  she  had  chosen  the  exact  spot  on  the  par 
ticular  limb  where  she  would  place  her  camera. 


40  THE  SHORT  CUT 

She  had  clothed  herself  as  the  springtime  clothed  the 
forests.  A  soft  blouse  of  green,  short  skirt  and 
stockings  of  green,  little  cap  of  green  and  green 
moccasins.  She  crouched  upon  the  broad  limb  of 
a  cedar  or  clung  more  hazardously  to  the  branch  of 
a  pine,  the  tone  colour  of  her  costume  making  no 
discord  with  the  dusky  sheen  of  the  waving 
branches,  and  watched  and  waited.  So,  when 
"  hunting "  was  good  she  had  a  picture  of  the 
mother  bird  perched  upon  the  edge  of  the  nest  in 
which  the  eggs  lay,  a  picture  of  the  nest  with  the 
little,  new  birds  obeying  the  first  command  of  nature, 
a  picture  of  the  parents  feeding  them  the  first  worm 
or  berry  or  rebellious  bug,  a  picture  of  the  trial 
flight  when  soft  young  bodies  essayed  independence 
on  unskilful  wings. 

At  first  the  girl  had  been  merely  an  amateur  in 
the  early,  sweet  sense  of  the  word.  Then  one  day 
she  saw  a  couple  of  pages  in  an  illustrated  magazine 
devoted  to  such  photographs  as  these  she  was  play 
ing  with.  They  were  better  than  hers,  since  the 
man  who  had  taken  them  was  a  trained  artist  as 
well  as  a  lover  of  the  wild;  and  they  had  been  at 
once  a  disappointment  and  an  inspiration  to  her. 
Then,  upon  another  day,  her  father  who  made  little 
comment  upon  her  pastime,  handed  her  a  box  from 
the  express  office  in  which  she  found  a  camera  with  a 
lens  that  would  do  its  part  if  she  learned  to  do  hers. 
And  that  was  when  she  threw  herself  so  enthusiasti 
cally  into  her  "  work." 


THE  WHITE  HUNTRESS  41 

"  I  am  going  to  have  a  page  of  pictures  in  that 
same  magazine,"  was  her  way  of  thanking  him. 
"  And  mine  are  going  to  be  better !  " 

She  flushed  a  little  at  his  smile,  but  when  she  had 
gone  away  and  was  alone  with  her  new  possession 
and  a  world  of  possibilities,  her  chin  was  very  firm. 

She  had  her  own  studio  in  the  attice  above 
the  dining  room,  developed  plates  and  films  there, 
and  descended  the  ladder  into  the  hallway  flushed 
with  triumph  or  vexed  with  disappointment  as  her 
efforts  proved  to  be  good  or  bad.  The  mistakes 
had  been  many  at  first;  they  were  few  now. 

She  became  a  student  of  the  "  Home  Life  of  the 
Wild  Things."  They  all  interested  her,  they  all 
posed  for  her,  squirrel  and  bird  and  butterfly. 
Inevitably  she  began  to  specialise,  but  her  specialisa 
tion  was  not  in  one  species  but  rather  in  one  process, 
in  the  dawning  and  budding  life  of  the  young  in  the 
real  "  home  life  "  before  the  new  fledgling  or  tiny 
furred  body  left  the  nest  for  an  independent  life  and 
a  future  nest  of  its  own.  The  wild  mates  at  work 
upon  the  house  which  instinct  prompted  was  to  be 
of  use  soon,  the  construction  of  a  swinging  pocket 
hung  high  up  by  an  oriole,  this  was  a  part  of  the 
home  life,  just  as  essential  a  part  of  it  as  the  cover 
ing  of  the  eggs,  the  feeding  of  the  young. 

Before  the  year  had  swelled  and  blossomed  into 
full  mid-summer  she  had  a  pupil.  It  was  her 
mother.  Mother  and  daughter  had  always  been 
more  to  each  other  than  the  terms  commonly  imply, 


42  THE  SHORT  CUT 

very  nearly  all  that  they  should  connote.  They 
had  been  friends.  Here  where  the  solitudes  were 
mighty  and  vast,  where  long  miles  and  hard  trails 
lay  between  homes  and  where  women  were  few, 
they  had  had  but  themselves  to  turn  to  when  need 
or  desire  came  for  the  company  of  their  own  sex. 
Mrs.  Leland  had  remained  young,  in  part  because 
hers  was  a  happy,  sunny  nature,  in  part  because  she 
had  had  the  fires  of  youth  replenished  from  the 
superabundant  glow  of  girlhood  in  her  daughter. 

But  now  that  the  summer  came  with  monotony 
and  silence,  now  that  Arthur  Shandon  came  no  more, 
that  Wayne  seemed  to  have  forgotten  the  range 
country,  that  Garth  Conway  was  busy  every  day 
with  the  entire  management  of  a  heavily  stocked 
cattle  outfit,  there  were  long,  quiet  days  at  the  Echo 
Creek. 

"  Wanda, "  Mrs.  Leland  said  one  day,  a  little 
wistfully.  "  Can't  I  come  with  you  and  take  a  peep 
first  hand  into  the  homes  of  your  wild  friends?  I'll 
be  very  still,  I'll  stay  with  Shep  and  Gypsy  if  you 
want  me  to." 

Wanda,  at  once  contrite  and  happy,  was  filled 
with  apologies  and  explanations.  She  had  had  no 
thought  that  her  mother  would  find  an  interest  in 
her  "  play."  But  if  she  would  come,  if  she  would 
like  to  come,  oh,  she  would  show  her  the  most  won 
derful  discovery.  .  .  . 

So  mother  and  daughter  rode  out  together  that 
day  with  lunch  and  camera,  and  that  night  worked 


THE  WHITE  HUNTRESS  43 

together  in  Wanda's  attic  studio  over  a  highly  satis 
factory  film.  [The  older  woman's  interest  became  as 
steady,  as  enthusiastic  in  a  deeply  thoughtful  way, 
as  Wanda's.  She  learned  to  love  each  day's  ad 
venture  as  warmly  as  did  her  daughter,  she  came 
to  have  the  same  tender  joy  in  the  unexpected 
discovery  of  some  new  phase  of  the  liome  life  of  the 
wild. 

"  In  all  of  your  hunting  you  are  missing  some 
thing,  my  White  Huntress,"  she  said  one  day. 
"  Something  which  I  have  discovered !  " 

Wanda  smiled  brightly  at  her  over  the  top  of  a 
new  picture,  pleased  with  her  mother's  interest  no 
less  than  with  the  print  in  her  hands. 

"What' is  it,  mamma?" 

"  I  am  not  going  to  tell  you  yet.  But  to-morrow 
when  we  go  out  for  the  oriole's  nest,  I  am  going 
to  take  your  old  kodak!  " 

As  they  rode  the  five  or  six  miles  to  the  spot  where 
they  were  to  do  the  morning's  "  hunting  "  Wanda 
wondered  what  it  was  she  had  missed  that  her 
mother  had  noticed.  But  she  promptly  forgot 
about  it  when  she  climbed  the  great  pine  which,  for 
her  mother's  purpose,  was  so  happily  situated  close 
to  a  cliff.  She  noted  with  a  bright  nod  of  approval 
as  she  edged  far  out  upon  a  horizontal  limb  that  her 
mother  had  made  her  own  way  up  to  the  cliff  top. 
Long  she  waited  that  morning,  patient  and  happy 
and  still,  her  camera  set  in  front  of  her,  before  she 
got  the  exposure  she  wanted.  And  she  did  not  hear 


44  THE  SHORT  CUT 

the  other  click  of  the  other  machine,  did  not  know 
that  her  mother  had  been  as  patient  and  as  con 
tented  waiting  to  get  the  picture  she  wanted  of 
Wanda  as  Wanda  had  been  in  snapping  the  bird  and 
the  nest  and  the  young,  hungry  mouths  at  the 
threshold. 

That  afternoon  they  developed  and  printed,  each 
her  own  pictures.  And  when  Mrs.  Leland  had  fin 
ished  she  showed  Wanda  what  she  had  done. 
There  was  the  picture  of  Wanda,  far  out  upon  the 
great  limb,  eager  and  watchful,  her  camera  ready, 
the  oriole's  nest  swinging  before  her,  the  mother 
bird  just  dropping  down  to  it.  And  below  and  be 
yond  were  the  ground,  looking  immeasurably  dis 
tant,  the  fir  and  pine  branches,  the  forest  of  trees. 

"  You  see,  Wanda,  what  you  have  overlooked?  " 
Mrs.  Leland's  eyes  were  unusually  bright.  '  You 
have  dozens  of  pictures  that  are  wonderful,  pictures 
that  you  strove  for  for  weeks,  months  at  a  time! 
One  looks  at  your  picture  and  sees  that  it  is  wonder 
ful,  but  does  not  understand  how  wonderful.  You 
cling  to  a  branch  or  a  tree  trunk  or  the  side  of  a  cliff, 
fifty  or  a  hundred  and  fifty  feet  of  space  below  you, 
and  take  your  picture.  People  look  at  the  picture 
and  do  not  see  that  the  wonderful  thing,  the  inter 
esting  thing,  is  how  you  got  it !  " 

"  But  .  .  ."  began  Wanda. 

"  But,"  Mrs.  Leland  laughed  happily,  "  just  listen 
to  me  a  moment,  miss.  You  are  going  on  with  your 
pictures  and  I  am  going  to  follow  you  very  humbly 


THE  WHITE  HUNTRESS  45 

and  take  other  pictures  to  show  how  you  get  them. 
We'll  send  both  sets  to  your  magazines  and  you'll 
see  if  mine  aren't  snapped  up  just  as  quick  as 
yours !  " 

So  the  relationship  of  mother  and  daughter  which 
had  grown  into  that  of  a  warm,  intimate  friendship 
now  developed  into  closer,  more  intimate  compan 
ionship.  Together  they  found  bright,  brimming 
days  that  otherwise  might  have  been  dull  and 
empty. 

Wanda  came  to  realise  that  a  woman  who  is  forty 
may  be,  in  all  essentials,  as  young  as  a  girl  of  twenty, 
and  that  the  added  score  of  years  while  it  brings 
truer  insight  and  perhaps  a  steadier  heart  does  not 
quench  ardour  or  deaden  the  emotions. 

"  Mamma,"  she  said  one  day,  looking  up  brightly 
from  the  development  of  a  film  from  her  mother's 
kodak,  "  you  are  just  a  girl  yourself!  " 

And  Mrs.  Leland  was  just  girl  enough  to  flush, 
and  youthful  enough  to  laugh  as  musically  as  her 
daughter. 

Thus,  as  the  days  went  by  and  they  were  fre 
quently  alone  together,  Martin  Leland  being  often 
away  on  the  business  upon  which  he  and  Arthur 
Shandon  had  entered  with  Sledge  Hume,  the  two 
women  were  not  lonely.  Mrs.  Leland  accompanied 
Wanda  everywhere  to  take  pictures  showing  the  girl 
climbing  for  a  lofty  bird  nest,  clinging  to  the  cliffs 
at  the  upper  end  of  the  valley,  crouching  hidden 
among  the  bushes  waiting  for  a  rabbit  to  hop  into 


46  THE  SHORT  CUT 

the  picture,  even  on  the  deer  "hunt"  they  had 
already  begun. 

So  the  late  summer  slipped  by  more  swiftly  in  its 
smooth  channel  than  ever,  the  leaves  in  the  orchard 
yellowed  with  the  fall,  the  light  green  tips  upon  the 
fir  branches  turned  dark  green,  the  cattle  were  driven 
down  to  the  lower  valleys  along  the  creeks,  and  the 
first  snows  of  winter  dimmed  the  shortening  days. 

With  the  passing  of  the  summer,  Garth  Conway 
came  again  to  be  a  frequent  visitor  at  the  Echo 
Creek  ranch  house.  Since  the  letter  from  Wayne 
Shandon  in  New  York  he  had  had  but  one  com 
munication  from  the  man  who  now  owned  the  Bar 
L-M.  It  had  been  characteristically  short,  written 
in  London. 

"  I  am  leaving  the  destiny  of  the  cows  in  your 
competent  hands,"  Wayne  wrote.  "  I  am  legally 
giving  you  a  power  of  attorney.  This  authorises 
you  to  run  the  outfit  as  you  judge  best.  Make  what 
sales  you  want  to  to  pay  the  boys  and  yourself. 
Bank  the  money  or  re-invest  for  improvements  and 
more  cattle.  The  Lord  knows  when  I'll  come  back 
.  .  .  provided  the  Devil  has  told  Him." 

And  then,  in  a  postscript,  hastily  scribbled  he  had 
added, 

"  I  have  made  my  will  .  .  .  Imagine  me  making 
a  will!  .  .  .  and  if  I  don't  come  back  at  all  the  outfit 
is  yours.  Love  to  the  Lelands." 

And  then,  as  a  second  afterthought,  he  had 
scrawled  at  the  top  of  the  note. 


THE  WHITE  HUNTRESS  47 

"  A  joke  on  you  in  case  I  shouldn't  come  back, 
Garth !  I  want  you  to  sell  some  cows  and  send  me 
another  two  thousand.  But  I  promise  not  to  do 
it  again." 

Garth  told  his  news  in  the  living  room  where  the 
family  had  been  listening  to  the  music  of  Wanda's 
lilting  young  voice  with  her  mother's  piano  accom 
paniment  when  he  came  in.  Mrs.  Leland' s  smiling 
face  grew  clouded  and  distressed  and  her  eyes  turned 
involuntarily  to  her  husband.  Martin  Leland 
sprang  to  his  feet  in  sudden  wrath. 

"  Hell's  bells !  "  he  shouted  angrily.  "  Two  sac 
rifice  sales  in  less  than  a  year !  Four  thousand  dol 
lars!  And  what  has  he  done  with  it?  Got  drunk, 
chucked  it  away  across  race  courses  and  card  tables 
.  .  .  Would  to  God  I  had  done  what  it  was  my  duty 
to  do,  that  .  .  ." 

"Martin!"  cried  Mrs.  Leland.  "Martin, 
dear!" 

He  stopped  abruptly  and  sank  back  into  his  chair. 
For  a  little  while  there  was  silence,  heavy  and  pain 
ful.  Wanda's  eyes  grew  misty.  Not  once  since 
that  day  in  the  spring  had  she  been  disloyal  to  Red 
Reckless,  whom  she  had  known  in  his  boyhood,  who 
had  fought  her  early  battles  for  her,  who  had  been 
the  plumed  knight  of  her  early  girlhood.  She  told 
herself  now  that  he  had  not  come  back  because  he 
could  not  bear  to  return  yet  to  the  place  where  he 
and  his  brother  had  spent  so  many  happy  days  to 
gether,  that  if  he  was  living  wildly  now,  scurrying 


48  THE  SHORT  CUT 

up  and  down  the  world  and  flinging  away  his  inher 
itance,  it  was  because  he  had  felt  his  brother's  loss 
far  more  than  he  had  let  them  know,  that  he  was 
going  his  pace  swiftly  to  forget  what  lay  behind. 
And  again  there  rose  in  her  heart  the  mute  prayer 
that  he  might  come  back  and  be  a  man  and  show 
them  all  that  they  had  not  judged  him  fairly. 

Garth  glanced  swiftly  at  the  faces  of  these  three 
people  who  had  heard  his  news  with  such  varied 
emotions,  and  went  on  to  break  the  silence  none  of 
them  had  noticed. 

"  Matters  are  going  rather  well  on  the  range," 
he  said  quietly.  "  I  sold  a  hundred  head  at  an  aver 
age  of  ninety-seven  dollars  last  week  and  was  able 
to  bank  the  entire  nine  thousand,  seven  hundred. 
Maybe,"  with  a  quick  smile,  "  it  will  be  just  as  well 
if  he  doesn't  come  back  in  a  hurry." 

"  Oh,"  cried  Wanda  impulsively.  "  That  is  un 
generous  of  you !  After  Wayne  says  that  he  is  leav 
ing  everything  to  you  in  his  will,  too !  " 

"  I  don't  mean  to  be  ungenerous  or  yet  ungrate 
ful,"  replied  Garth  a  bit  stiffly,  flushing  under  the 
girl's  reproachful  eyes.  "  I  only  meant  .  .  ." 

"  Wanda,"  said  her  father  sharply,  "  you  should 
be  ashamed  of  yourself!  Garth  has  not  been  un 
generous  and  you  have.  And  he  is  right.  It  would 
be  the  best  thing  for  Wayne  himself  as  well  as  for 
the  range  if  he  doesn't  come  back  for  a  long  time. 
Garth  is  working  hard  for  the  interests  of  both. 
And  if  any  one  should  be  grateful  to  the  man  who  is 


THE  WHITE  HUNTRESS  49 

running  his  range  for  him  it  is  that  young  spend 
thrift.  You  are  not  thinking,  Wanda." 

The  girl  bit  her  lip  and  turned  away.  And  she 
did  not  make  the  apology  her  father  expected. 
Dimly  it  seemed  to  her  that  they  were  all  over  ready, 
over  eager  to  condemn  the  man  whose  one  crime 
had  been  mere  heedlessness,  who  was  surely  hurting 
no  one  but  himself,  but  who  offended  their  ideas  in 
refusing  to  take  life  seriously  and  bear  the  common 
burden  of  responsibility. 

"  After  all,"  said  Mrs.  Leland  a  little  hurriedly, 
"  Wayne  is  only  a  boy.  Oh,  he's  a  man  in  years,  of 
course,  but  then  some  people  are  fortunate  enough 
to  carry  their  youth  with  them  a  long  time  before  it 
drops  off.  And,"  with  a  smile,  "  he  says  he  won't 
do  it  again!  " 

Martin  Leland  smoked  his  two  pipefuls  of  strong 
tobacco  and  then  departed  to  attend  to  some  corre 
spondence.  Mrs.  Leland  soon  slipped  away  to  her 
book  and  easy  chair  and  cushions  in  a  corner.  Until 
ten  o'clock  Wanda  and  Garth  bent  together  over  a 
big  scrap  book  containing  the  latest  additions  to  the 
home  life  of  the  wild. 

Soon  afterward  even  Garth  Conway's  visits  to  the 
Leland  home  stopped.  November  came  with  many 
dark  days  and  an  occasional  flurry  of  snow.  The 
ground  might  at  any  time  now  be  covered,  the  passes 
choked  with  the  soft  drifts,  the  valleys  hidden. 
The  cattle  must  be  moved  down  the  mountains  to 
the  foothills  where  each  year  they  wintered.  The 


50  THE  SHORT  CUT 

Bar  L-M  buildings  were  closed,  the  heavy  wooden 
shutters  put  up,  the  corrals  deserted  until  thaw  time. 
Conway  with  his  men  and  cattle  would  not  come 
again  until  springtime  came  with  them. 

And  over  the  Echo  Creek  ranch  the  silence  of  the 
summer  passed  into  the  deeper  silence  of  winter. 
Leland's  cattle  and  men  had  gone  already  to  his 
winter  range;  there  was  no  one  at  home  excepting 
Mrs.  Leland,  Wanda,  Julia,  and  Jim  who  remained 
to  do  what  little  work  there  was  to  be  done  during 
the  term  of  "  hibernating."  Martin's  interests  were 
too  big  for  him  to  stay  here  had  he  desired  to  do  so ; 
his  family  would  not  see  him  again  for  the  two 
months  or  so  during  which  he  remained  outside. 

It  was  not  the  first  year  that  the  Echo  Creek 
house  was  not  shuttered  and  closed  for  the  winter. 
Mrs.  Leland  had  sometimes  gone  with  her  husband 
to  spend  the  storm  swept  months  of  the  year  either 
at  one  of  his  other  ranches  or  in  the  city,  and  some 
times  she  had  stayed  here.  This  winter  she  had  no 
particular  desire  to  leave  her  comfortable  home  for 
the  makeshift  of  a  San  Francisco  hotel  and  Wanda 
was  eager  to  stay. 

"  You'll  be  cooped  up  within  ten  days  like  ship 
wrecks  on  a  raft,"  Martin  Leland  said  when  he  man 
aged  to  make  a  trip  back  to  the  ranch  in  December. 
"  We're  in  for  a  hard  winter.  I  wouldn't  be  sur 
prised  if  I  couldn't  get  in  again  or  you  get  out  before 
well  on  into  February  or  March." 

He  had  made  a  flying  trip  between  storms,  hasten- 


THE  WHITE  HUNTRESS  51 

ing  from  El  Toyon  to  White  Rock  over  the  mail 
route,  coming  in  from  White  Rock  through  the  still 
open  pass  through  the  mountains.  His  one  object 
in  coming  had  been  to  try  to  induce  his  women  folk 
to  leave  Echo  Creek.  And  the  same  day,  seeing  the 
threat  of  bad  weather,  he  went  out  again,  on  skis 
and  alone. 

There  were  busy  days  for  all  four  who  remained 
at  the  ranch  house  in  making  preparations  for  idle, 
comfortable  days  to  follow.  Jim  brought  vast 
quantities  of  wood  from  the  basement,  piling  it  high 
in  the  corner  of  the  living  room  where  it  would  be 
convenient  for  feeding  the  deep  throated  fireplace 
whose  rocks  would  stay  warm  all  night,  hot  all  day, 
for  many  weeks.  From  the  yard  he  brought  more 
wood,  piling  it  in  the  basement  until  there  were  only 
narrow  passageways  between  the  slabs  and  logs  and 
the  finer  split  stove  wood.  Julia  superintended  the 
placing  of  her  kitchen  supplies,  secreted  those  little 
delicacies  which  she  would  require  at  Christmas  time, 
arranged  her  canned  goods  and  perpetually  fussed 
and  rearranged  in  her  storeroom.  Meanwhile 
Mrs.  Leland  and  Wanda  were  everywhere  at  once, 
overseeing  the  moving  of  beds,  the  shifting  of 
furniture,  the  making  cosy  of  the  home  against  the 
siege.  And  then,  howling  and  shrieking,  with  deep 
voice  shouting  across  the  pine  forests,  the  winter 
came  in  earnest. 

Martin  Leland  had  read  the  signs  aright;  it  was 
to  be  a  hard  winter.  There  came  a  wind  storm  that 


52  THE  SHORT  CUT 

lasted  without  cessation  for  three  days;  the  branches 
of  the  cedars  about  the  house  tossed  like  long  arms 
grappling  with  an  unseen  foe ;  here  and  there  a  dead 
limb  was  wrenched  from  a  tree  trunk  and  hurled  far 
out  to  be  buried  in  the  snow  which  began  to  fall  in 
small,  hard  flakes  almost  congealed  to  hail.  Then, 
the  three  days  gone,  the  wind  died  down  suddenly, 
the  flakes  grew  larger,  softer,  the  snow  clung  tena 
ciously  to  the  trees  and  fences  and  eaves  of  house 
and  stable.  Jim  in  arctic  shoes  and  mittens,  his  ears 
lost  under  the  flaps  of  his  cap,  having  sighed  and  be 
stirred  himself  from  his  snug  comfort  by  Julia's 
stove,  got  his  shovel  and  went  up  on  the  housetop. 

While  the  bleak,  chill  days  rushed  by  Wanda  pre 
pared  happily  for  the  fine  weather  which  would 
come,  when  the  sun  reflected  back  from  many  feet 
of  fluffy  snow  would  warm  the  air,  when  in  the 
high,  dry  altitudes  the  sparkling,  Christmassy  world 
would  become  a  rarely  beautiful  thing,  when  she 
could  leave  the  house  and  penetrate  deep  into  a  soli 
tude  which  was  as  different  from  the  solitude  of  the 
summer  forestland  as  day  is  from  night.  She 
brought  down  from  the  attic  her  own  favourite  pair 
of  skis  and  sa-w  that  they  were  fit.  The  long  slender 
bits  of  pine,  light  and  graceful  with  their  running 
grooves  glistening,  their  turned  up  ends  like  Turks' 
slippers,  she  stood  on  end  in  the  living  room  while 
she  gave  them  a  new  coat  of  white  shellac.  Her 
snowshoe  pole  she  tested,  making  sure  that  it  had 
sustained  no  injury  during  its  long  banishment  to 


THE  WHITE  HUNTRESS  53 

the  dark  places  of  the  attic,  and  that  it  could  be 
trusted  in  the  work  she  would  call  upon  it  to  do. 
She  gathered  the  winter  out-door  things  which  she 
had  not  used  for  two  years,  the  white  sweater  that 
clung  close  to  her  slim,  pliant  body;  the  white  tas- 
seled  hat,  mitts,  leggins,  white  bloomers.  And  then, 
when  a  blue  and  white,  laughing  day  came,  and  the 
air  was  clear  and  warm,  the  branches  of  the  trees 
sagging  under  their  diamond  pricked  festoons  of 
snow,  she  left  the  house,  now  in  truth  the  White 
Huntress. 

Camera  and  field  glasses  went  with  her;  for  lunch 
a  bit  of  jerked  beef  and  a  piece  of  hard  chocolate. 
For  to-day  she  began  her  winter  work.  Again  she 
was  hunting.  The  forests  as  she  slipped  through 
them  were  very  still  and  seemed  void  of  all  the  life 
that  had  swarmed  here  until  the  snows  came.  But 
she  would  see  snow  birds,  she  might  find  a  coyote 
or  a  big  snow-shoe  rabbit.  She  would  take  pictures, 
tooj  such  wintry  pictures  as  she  had  never  seen,  the 
world  locked  in  the  embrace  of  winter,  glistening 
icicles  as  big  as  her  body,  cliffs  thrown  into  strange, 
grotesque  shapes,  fields  of  untracked  white  with  per 
haps  the  sweep  of  a  stream  seeming  ink  black  against 
the  dazzling  white  background, 

And  she  thrilled  to  the  crunch  of  thin  crust  under 
foot  which  yesterday's  thaw  and  last  night's  freeze 
had  formed,  the  whip  of  the  dry  air  in  her  face, 
the  exhilaration  of  the  long,  swift  dash  as  she 
glided  from  the  crest  of  some  ridge,  a  silent,  grace- 


54  THE  SHORT  CUT 

ful  creature,  into  the  hollow  beyond.  Her  body 
bent  a  little  forward,  her  snow-shoe  pole  hori 
zontal  as  a  tight  rope  walker  holds  his  balancing 
rod,  the  white  world  slid  away  beneath  her,  little 
sinks  or  humps  in  the  apparent  smoothness  of  the 
snow  demanding  the  sudden  leap  which  shot  the 
blood  tingling  through  the  eager  body.  For  the 
light  skis  with  their  three  coats  of  shellac  carried  her 
down  the  steeper  slopes  with  the  wild  speed  of  a  bird 
skimming  the  winter  whitened  earth. 

This  first  day  she  took  an  old  favourite  way  which 
led  her  up  a  gradual  slope  straight  southward  until 
at  last  she  paused,  breathing  deeply,  upon  the  crest. 
Far  behind  her  she  could  see  the  smoke  of  the 
ranch  house  rising  from  a  clump  of  cedars;  straight 
ahead  the  black  line  of  the  river.  And  now,  bal 
ancing  a  moment,  gripping  her  pole  firmly,  settling 
her  feet  securely  in  the  ski-straps,  she  shot  down 
ward,  taking  the  steep  dip  which  would  lead  after  a 
little  into  a  long  curve  and  so  bring  her  flashing 
through  the  trees  down  to  the  river  three  miles 
away. 

Her  eyes  were  sparkling,  her  cheeks  glowing,  her 
body  warm  with  the  sun's  heat  and  the  leaping  blood 
within  her,  when  she  straightened  up  and  touching 
the  end  of  her  pole  lightly  against  the  snow  came 
to  a  stop  near  the  river.  It  was  swollen  and  black, 
a  mighty,  shouting  thing,  the  only  thing  about  her 
whose  voice  had  not  been  stilled  by  the  snow. 

Her  eyes  turning  found  close  at  hand  the  first 


THE  WHITE  HUNTRESS  551 

tracks  she  had  seen  this  morning,  fresh  tracks  of  a 
big  rabbit. 

"  I  must  have  frightened  him/'  she  thought. 
"  He's  gone  on  upstream." 

She  turned  upstream  as  the  rabbit  had  done,  noise 
lessly  following  his  trail.  And,  turned  eastward  by 
a  rabbit's  track,  she  followed  unconsciously,  unsus 
pectingly,  the  imperious  bidding  of  her  fate.  Her 
own  life,  the  lives  of  two  men  would  have  been 
widely  different  had  Wanda  Leland  turned  westward 
instead  of  eastward  this  morning. 

Already  she  was  a  mile  above  the  bridge  across 
which  the  road  ran  to  the  Bar  I^M.  From  where 
she  was  a  stranger  might  not  suppose  that  man  or 
horse  could  find  a  place  to  cross  in  many  times  that 
distance;  for  here  the  river  banks  were  steep  cliffs, 
never  lower  than  ten  feet,  rising  often  abruptly  to 
thirty.  Between  them  the  water  raged,  thundering 
over  falls,  leaping  into  deep  pools  where  the  sucking 
eddies  were  never  still. 

And  as  she  moved  on  upstream,  further  yet  from 
the  bridge,  the  rocky  banks  grew  steeper,  drew 
nearer  to  each  other,  until  suddenly  the  plunging 
river  was  lost  to  her,  its  thunder  muffled.  Wanda 
could  see  a  thick  mat  of  snow  from  a  great,  flat 
topped  rock  on  the  far  side  curving  downward, 
inward,  as  if  from  the  eaves  of  a  house,  the  long 
icicles  like  sharp  teeth  set  in  a  monster's  gaping 
jaw. 

Close  along  the  edge  of  the  cliffs  the  course  of  the 


56  THE  SHORT  CUT 

fleeing  rabbit  led,  while  Wanda's  skis  left  their  par 
allel  smooth  tracks  in  a  straight  line  a  score  of  feet 
back  from  the  steep  bank.  She  slipped  silently 
through  a  clump  of  firs,  peered  around  the  branches 
bent  down  by  the  heavy  snow,  and  saw  the  snow-shoe 
rabbit  where  he  had  stopped  for  a  moment.  He 
was  a  big  fellow,  the  biggest  she  had  ever  seen, 
crouching  low,  his  round  eyes  bright  and  suspicious, 
as  he  trusted  to  his  colour  to  protect  him.  She 
brought  her  camera  swiftly  out  of  its  case. 

"  There's  a  chance  to  get  him,  after  all,"  she 
thought  eagerly.  "  It  won't  be  much  of  a  picture 
perhaps  .  .  .  just  a  white  blur  against  a  white  back 
ground  .  .  ." 

The  camera  clicked  just  as  the  rabbit  leaped  for 
ward;  she  thought  she  had  caught  him  against  the 
dark  background  of  a  fir  from  which  much  of  the 
snow  had  fallen.  Then,  just  in  front  of  the  fright 
ened  animal  a  little  branch  of  a  small  pine,  suddenly 
released  of  its  weight  of  snow,  whipped  up;  a  new 
terror  came  into  the  creature's  panic  stricken  breast; 
he  stopped  sharply,  swerved,  lost  his  head  as  one  of 
his  rattle  brained  species  is  likely  to  do,  ran  directly 
toward  the  girl,  swerved  again  and  running  straight 
toward  the  river,  essayed  the  impossible  and  met  de 
struction.  He  leaped  far  out  across  the  water, 
attempting  a  jump  that  none  of  his  kind  could  have 
made  safely,  and  fell  short.  The  furry  body 
described  a  great  valiant  arc,  shot  upward  for  one 
flashing  second,  dropped  out  of  sight. 


THE  WHITE  HUNTRESS  57 

"  Oh,  I  am  so  sorry,"  cried  the  girl  contritely. 
"  You  poor  little  thing." 

The  woodland  tragedy  moved  her  strangely,  for 
she  felt  that,  innocently  enough,  she  had  caused  it. 
She  moved  closer  to  see  if  by  a  happy  chance  the 
rabbit  had  landed  upon  a  rocky  shelf  far  down, 
hoping  that  after  all  she  might  in  some  way  set  him 
free. 

Moving  slowly,  her  camera  again  in  its  case,  her 
pole  touching  the  snow,  she  approached  until  she 
could  look  down.  Only  the  steep  wall  on  the  far 
side,  sinking  straight  and  black  into  the  swollen  tor 
rent,  only  a  little  speck  of  white  far  down  which 
might  have  been  a  struggling  body  or  a  fleck  of 
foam. 

"  The  poor  little  thing,"  she  said  again.  "  He 
saw  that  the  far  bank  is  lower  than  this  one,  and  he 
was  too  frightened  to  guess  the  distance." 

Musing,  she  thought  that  her  skis  were  merely 
settling  a  little  deeper  through  the  crust  when  she 
felt  a  slight  sinking  underneath.  Then,  suddenly, 
she  was  aware  that  her  skis  were  dipping  down 
ward,  that  she  was  slipping.  She  tried  hastily  to 
draw  back,  she  felt  that  she  was  still  slipping,  that 
the  polished  surfaces  of  the  skis  were  answering  the 
call  of  gravity,  that  she  was  being  drawn  closer, 
closer  in  spite  of  her  efforts  .  .  . 

She  made  a  wild,  frantic  attempt  to  draw  back,  a 
quick  terror  gripping  her.  The  shouting  river  was 
calling  to  her,  something  was  pulling  at  her  body 


58  THE  SHORT  CUT 

steadily  as  a  magnet  pulls  at  a  steel,  the  world  was 
slipping  away  under  her,  she  was  going  the  way  the 
rabbit  had  gone  .  .  . 

Then  she  threw  her  body  backward,  twisting  as 
best  she  could  with  the  skis  clinging  to  her  feet, 
clutching  with  her  hands  at  anything  her  fingers 
might  touch.  She  heard  a  splash,  knew  that  the 
overhang  of  snow  had  dropped  into  the  river,  knew 
that  one  ski  was  hanging  over  the  brink.  And  then 
the  hand  that  had  gripped  at  the  smooth  snow 
sank  down  and  clutched  the  top  of  a  small,  hidden 
pine,  she  drew  herself  up  and  back  and  in  a  moment, 
white,  shaking  she  lay  still,  not  daring  to  look  down. 


CHAPTER  V 

THE    HOME    COMING   OF   RED   RECKLESS 

WINTER  went  its  white  way,  the  spring 
brought  a  thawing  sun,  innumerable 
muddy  torrents  and  an  occasional  visitor, 
the  robins  and  blue  birds  began  to  troop  back  to 
the  mountains.  Martin  Leland  was  at  home,  his 
sturdier  steers  were  in  the  valleys,  Conway  came 
back  to  the  Bar  L-M  and  often  visited  the  Lelands. 
Sledge  Hume  rode  up  from  the  Dry  Lands,  fifty 
miles  down  the  slope  of  the  mountains  and  was  often 
in  consultation  with  Martin  and  with  Garth  Conway. 

Warm  weather  battled  against  the  rear  guard 
of  winter,  only  patches  of  soiled  snow  remained  upon 
the  north  side  of  the  ridges,  in  the  narrow  canons 
and  upon  the  lofty  summits  of  the  peaks  standing  up 
about  the  valleys.  The  early  flowers  dotted  the 
valleys,  more  cattle  were  moved  in,  and  the  season 
developed  rapidly.  Conway  came  frequently  to 
talk  with  Martin,  to  remain  for  supper,  to  chat 
with  Wanda  and  her  mother.  And  then  one  day, 
unheralded,  unlocked  for,  Red  Reckless  came  home. 

It  was  the  supper  hour,  just  after  dark.  Father, 
mother  and  daughter  were  at  the  table,  when  there 
came  a  quick  step  upon  the  veranda,  and  the  joy 

59 


6o  THE  SHORT  CUT 

which  the  gay  springtime  had  put  into  Wanda's  heart 
brimmed  up  and  spilled  over. 

"  It's  Garth,"  said  Martin  Leland  lightly.  "  I 
expected  he'd  ride  over  to-night." 

"It's  Wayne!"  cried  Wanda,  already  upon  her 
feet. 

*  Wayne !  "  snapped  her  father,  his  face  suddenly 
stern.     "What  are  you  talking  about?" 

"  I  know  his  step.     It  is  Wayne !  " 

Wanda  had  already  run  to  the  door,  and  flung  it 
wide  open.  It  was  very  dark  outside.  The  tall 
form  of  a  man  loomed  strangely  large,  dimly  out 
lined  against  the  black  curtain  of  the  night. 

"Welcome  home,  Wanderer!"  Wanda  cried 
gaily. 

Wayne  Shandon  came  in,  his  big  boots  dusty  with 
his  ride,  his  red  hair  catching  fire  from  the  light  in 
the  room,  his  eyes  laughing,  his  lips  laughing,  his 
voice  laughing  when  he  greeted  Wanda  with  two 
eager  hands.  He  was  the  same  Wayne  Shandon 
who  had  ridden  away  a  year  ago,  the  same  Red 
Reckless  he  had  ever  been. 

Mrs.  Leland's  startled  surprise  vanished  swiftly 
before  her  joy  in  seeing  him.  But  Martin  Le- 
land's  face  went  black,  his  eyes  burned  ominously, 
it  was  as  though  he  had  been  gripped  with  a  chok 
ing,  speechless  wrath. 

"  Wayne  1  "  cried  Mrs.  Leland.  "  Where  in  the 
world  have  you  come  from?  " 

"  From  a  place  they  call  Hell's  Annex,  seven  hun- 


HOME  COMING  OF  RED  RECKLESS     61 

dred  miles  inland  from  the  South  African  Coast,"  he 
laughed  lightly.  "  My  arrival  timed  just  to  the 
minute  for  supper!  " 

He  dropped  Wanda's  hands  with  a  parting 
squeeze  which  was  frankly  unhidden,  strode  over  to 
Mrs.  Leland  whom  he  kissed  resoundingly,  and  put 
out  a  big,  strong  hand  to  Martin  Leland. 

For  just  a  fraction  of  a  second  the  two  women 
knew  that  Leland  was  hesitating,  for  an  instant  they 
waited  fearfully,  for  what  he  might  do.  Then  he 
took  the  hand  proffered  him,  his  lips  twitched 
into  a  hard,  forced  smile  and  he  said  rather  colour 
lessly, 

"  Well,  Wayne,  youVe  come  home  at  last,  have 
you?" 

Wayne's  answer  was  a  laugh.  He  seemed  filled 
with  laughter  to-night.  Evidently  he  had  noticed 
nothing  strange  in  Leland's  greeting;  he  was  in 
the  gayest  of  his  gay  moods.  He  had  no  opportun 
ity  to  answer  Leland's  words,  for  Julia,  who  had  for 
gotten  her  usual  slow,  ponderous  method  of  travel 
bounced  into  the  room  like  a  wonderfully  animated 
ball  at  the  sound  of  his  voice,  and  he  actually  swept 
the  two  hundred  pounds  of  her  off  of  her  feet  as  he 
gathered  the  big  woman  up  into  his  arms  and  kissed 
her.  Then  Julia  dabbed  at  her  eyes  and  fled  to 
her  kitchen,  her  emotions  finding  outlet  in  an  in 
stantaneous  desire  to  make  him  a  pie,  Wanda  laid 
a  plate  for  him  and  supper  went  on. 

Chiefly  because  of  Wanda's  eager  questions  and 


62  THE  SHORT  CUT 

Wayne  Shandon's  laughing  willingness  to  tell  about 
his  adventures,  the  abstraction  on  the  part  of  Mar 
tin  Leland  and  the  growing  anxiety  in  Mrs.  Leland's 
eyes  went  unnoticed.  Wayne  was  immoderately 
hungry  as  he  first  frankly  confided  and  then  demon 
strated,  but  he  found  opportunity  between  mouthfuls 
to  draw,  in  his  sketchy  way,  the  series  of  pictures 
which  made  up  the  year  of  his  wanderings.  He  had 
travelled  from  New  York  to  London,  he  had 
whizzed  through  Paris  and  dipped  into  Baden,  he 
had  been  seasick  on  a  Mediterranean  which  wasn't 
blue,  he  had  barked  his  shins  on  a  pyramid,  he  had 
been  swindled  out  of  a  ridiculously  large  sum  of 
money  by  a  little  scientist  in  green  spectacles  who 
was  out  on  a  mummy  digging  expedition,  and  he  had 
gone  into  the  interior  after  big  game.  He  had  man 
aged  to  take  in  a  Derby  and  to  pick  a  winner,  he 
had  made  Monte  Carlo  recognise  that  he  had  come, 
— although  he  did  not  go  into  detail  as  to  the  man-  i 
ner  of  his  departure, —  and  he  had  brought  home 
a  present  for  everybody.  The  skin  he  had  taken 
from  a  lion  somewhere  in  some  remote  jungle  to 
sprawl,  rug  fashion  in  Wanda's  room,  where  it 
created  no  little  havoc  in  the  furniture  arrangement 
and  finally  caused  the  dressing  table  to  be  shifted  to 
a  corner  to  make  place  for  the  enormous,  gaping 
head  with  the  fierce  eyes;  an  Indian  shawl  for  Mrs. 
Leland,  selected  evidently  for  size  and  brilliance  of 
pattern,  very  nearly  large  enough  to  carpet  the 
dining  room  and  of  an  astonishing  combination  of 


HOME  COMING  OF  RED  RECKLESS     63 

dark  greens  and  riotous  reds  and  royal  purples;  an 
ornate  scarf  pin  for  Martin  Leland  who  had  as  much 
use  for  a  scarf  pin  as  a  Mohammedan  for  a  Bible ; 
an  exquisite  set  of  chessmen  for  Garth  purchased 
with  a  quick  eye  to  the  subtle  art  which  had  gone  into 
their  carving  and  with  a  fine  disregard  for  the  fact 
that  Garth  had  existed  for  thirty  odd  years  without 
learning  that  the  curveting  progress  of  a  knight  is  in 
any  way  different  from  the  ecclesiastical  slant  of  a 
bishop,  completed  the  assortment  of  presents. 

Garth  himself  came  in  as  they  were  pushing  back 
their  chairs  from  the  table,  throwing  open  the  door 
with  a  merry,  "  Hello,  folks,"  on  his  lips.  Then 
as  he  caught  sight  of  Wayne  who  had  leaped  up  and 
swung  about  he  stared,  suddenly  speechless,  his 
mouth  dropping  open. 

"  Well,  Garth,  old  boy,"  cried  Wayne  heartily. 
"Aren't  you  glad  to  see  me?  " 

Garth  came  forward  then  swiftly,  his  hand  out 
stretched.  But  his  eyes  were  still  startled  rather 
than  glad,  and  they  passed  his  cousin  turning,  full  of 
question,  to  Martin  Leland. 

"  Of  course  I'm  glad,"  he  said,  his  voice  a  little 
uncertain.  And  then,  laughing,  "  You  just  sur 
prised  me  out  of  my  senses.  Why  didn't  you  write 
that  you  were  coming?  " 

"  Because  I'd  rather  travel  three  thousand  miles 
to  tell  you  about  it  than  write  a  letter.  I'm  amaz 
ingly  glad  to  see  you.  How's  everything?  How 
is  the  range  making  out?" 


64  THE  SHORT  CUT 

"  Fine,"  Garth  answered  quickly.  "  You  have 
come  to  stay?  You  will  be  running  the  outfit  your 
self  now?" 

"  Business  to-morrow,"  retorted  Wayne  lightly. 
"  It  is  after  sundown  and  business  should  be  asleep." 

"  And  does  it  wake  at  sunup?"  Garth  returned 
with  an  attempt  at  Wayne's  bantering  mood, 
although  a  little  suspicion  of  venom  lay  under  the 
words. 

"  I  had  a  Mexican  friend  once,"  grinned  Wayne 
by  way  of  answer,  "  who  was  the  wisest  man  I  ever 
saw.  He  used  to  say,  c  The  day  is  made  to  rest,  the 
night  to  sleep !  '  We  will  give  our  attention  to 
Mariana  when  Mariana  comes.  Wanda !  "  he  cried 
suddenly  in  the  old  impulsive  way,  "  will  you  play 
something  for  me  ?  " 

Wayne  and  Wanda  went  to  the  piano.  Mrs. 
Leland  watched  them,  her  face  a  little  troubled,  a 
little  wistful.  Garth  and  Martin  Leland,  after  one 
swift  exchange  of  glances,  rose  and  went  to  the 
rancher's  room  where  they  remained  for  a  long 
time.  When  at  last  they  returned  to  the  living  room 
Leland  glanced  curiously  at  Wayne.  He  was  sitting 
with  Wanda  upon  the  sofa  under  the  big  wall  lamp, 
examining  her  pictures.  Garth  approached  the  sofa 
abruptly. 

"  We'd  better  be  hitting  the  trail,  Wayne,  hadn't 
we?  "  he  asked.  "  It's  nearly  ten  o'clock  and  you 
remember  it's  six  miles  to  bed." 

Reluctantly  Wayne  Shandon  said  his  good  nights, 


HOME  COMING  OF  RED  RECKLESS    65 

calling  in  to  Julia  that  he  was  going  to  expect  a  pie 
the  next  time  he  came,  which  would  be  to-morrow  if 
Garth  would  let  him,  and  the  two  men  went  out  to 
their  horses.  Wanda,  bright  and  happy,  waved  to 
the  departing  horsemen  from  the  door  and  came 
back  into  the  room  to  drop  naturally  into  the  silence 
which  had  fallen  over  her  mother  and  father. 

Long  that  night  Wanda  stared  out  through  the 
darkness  which  lay  about  the  orchard  with  no 
thought  of  sleep.  She  had  the  feeling  that  no  one 
in  the  house  was  asleep  yet,  not  even  Julia  whom,  she 
could  hear  now  and  then  moving  as  softly  as  physical 
conditions  permitted  in  her  room.  That  her  father 
and  mother  were  awake,  she  knew  from  the  drone 
of  their  voices  coming  to  her  indistinctly. 

The  spirit  of  restless  anxiety  falling  upon  a  house 
hold  is  a  thing  to  be  felt  through  stick  and  stone 
and  mortar.  There  had  been  no  such  spirit  here 
to-night  until  Red  Reckless  had  come  home.  He 
had  not  brought  it  with  him,  he  had  brought  only  his 
sheer  madness  of  exuberant  life,  and  yet  he  had  left 
this  other  thing  behind  him.  Wanda  wondered 
what  thoughts,  what  fears  or  evil  premonitions 
troubled  those  other  unsleeping  brains. 

Her  own  thoughts  fled  back  a  year  and  clung  fear 
fully  about  the  revolver  with  the  pearl  grip.  She 
knew  that  the  murder  of  his  brother  still  remained 
a  mystery  and  that  people  do  not  like  mysteries  to 
go  long  without  solution.  MacKelvey  was  sheriff, 
it  was  his  duty,  and  it  was  his  habit,  to  bring  some 


66  THE  SHORT  CUT 

man  to  book  for  every  crime  committed  in  the 
county.  It  was  quite  possible  that  the  sheriff  had 
been  playing  a  waiting  game  throughout  the  year, 
and  that  he  was  waiting  for  this  man  to  come  ba"ck 
as  he  must  do  soon  or  late. 

Meanwhile  the  man  who  was  so  vividly  in  Wan 
da's  thoughts  rode  through  the  silent  night  with  his 
cousin,  drinking  deep  of  the  peace  of  the  starlit 
night,  finding  an  old  familiar  music  in  the  hammer 
ing  of  his  horse's  hoofs  on  the  grassy  hills.  Silent 
himself  while  thinking  of  other  days  and  other  rides, 
he  did  not  notice  how  silent  Garth  was.  They 
topped  the  rocky  ridge  which  stood  as  boundary  line 
between  the  two  ranges,  and  swerved  westward  tak 
ing  the  long  curve  to  the  Crossing,  welcomed  back 
to  the  home  outfit  by  the  great  booming  voice  of  the 
distant  river.  Another  mile  and  the  river  itself, 
flashing,  turbulent  molten  silver,  swollen  with  the 
wet  winter  in  the  mountains,  swept  shouting  past 
them. 

They  turned  upward  along  the  river  and  raced 
wordlessly  the  greater  part  of  the  remaining  half 
mile  to  the  Bar  L-M  corrals.  When  they  drew 
rein  in  the  wide  clearing  in  which  stood  range  house, 
bunk  house,  stables  and  corrals,  there  was  no  spark 
of  light  about.  They  unsaddled  swiftly,  turned 
their  horses  loose  with  a  resounding  slap  to  send 
them  out  toward  the  little  enclosed  pasture,  and 
went  up  to  the  range  house.  At  the  door  of  the 
men's  quarters  Wayne  stopped. 


HOME  COMING  OF  RED  RECKLESS    67 

"  I  think  I'll  drop  in  and  say  hello  to  the  boys," 
he  remarked,  already  at  the  door. 

"  Are  you  crazy?  "  cried  Garth.  "  They've  been 
afcleep  two  hours,  man.  And  they've  got  a  big  day's 
work  ahead  of  them  to-morrow." 

"  Oh,  shut  up,  Garth,"  laughed  Wayne  good 
naturedly.  "  Don't  you  ever  think  of  anything  but 
work?  Come  ahead,  and  watch  me  bring  'em  to 
life !  " 

He  flung  open  the  door  and  entered,  Garth  fol 
lowing  in  stony  silence.  It  was  dark  within  the 
long,  narrow  room,  although  the  starlight  gleamed 
feebly  through  the  dirty  window  panes.  Wayne 
found  the  lantern  upon  the  nail  where  it  had  hung 
when  he  was  a  boy,  lighted  it,  and  turned  the  wick 
low  so  that  there  was  only  a  wan  light  in  the  bunk 
house. 

"  Where's  Big  Bill's  bunk?"  he  whispered  to 
Garth. 

Chuckling  softly  he  drew  near  the  bunk  which 
Garth  indicated  against  the  wall  at  the  far  end  of 
the  room.  He  leaned  forward,  stooping  low,  peer 
ing  into  the  shadows.  Big  Bill  was  fast  asleep,  his 
great,  deep  lungs  expelling  his  breath  regularly  and 
mightily,  his  head  with  its  touseled  ink  black  hair 
half  hidden  by  the  hairy  arm  flung  up  over  it. 
Wayne  tiptoed  away  from  the  bunk,  moved  two 
chairs  further  back  against  the  other  wall,  and  still 
chuckling  with  vastly  amused  anticipation,  again  ap 
proached  Big  Bill's  bedside. 


68  THE  SHORT  CUT 

He  put  out  his  hands  slowly,  gently,  until  they 
slipped  into  Big  Bill's  arm  pits.  Then,  his  laughter 
suddenly  booming  out  he  bunched  his  muscles  and  a 
black  haired  giant  of  a  man  in  shirt  and  underdraw- 
ers  was  jerked  floundering  out  of  his  bunk  to  the 
middle  of  the  room. 

Big  Bill's  mighty  roar  of  mingled  astonishment 
and  anger  brought  a  dozen  cowboys  leaping  out  of 
their  bunks.  In  the  dimly  lighted  room  their  blink 
ing  eyes  made  out  the  forms  of  two  men  struggling, 
one  in  his  night  dress,  the  other  in  hat  and  boots. 
One  was  Big  Bill,  for  his  roar  was  an  unmistakable 
as  the  roar  of  summer  thunder.  But  the  other? 

"  I've  been  hungering  to  get  my  hands  on  you  for 
a  year!"  came  the  laughing  voice  of  the  man  in 
hat  and  boots.  "  You  said  that  you  could  roll  me, 
Bill.  Now  go  to  it !  " 

He  lifted  the  mighty  body  of  the  struggling,  half 
wakened  cowboy  clean  off  the  floor,  carried  him 
across  the  room  and  slammed  him  down  in  a  chair. 

"  It's  Red  Reckless !  "  cried  a  voice  from  the 
group  of  stupefied  men.  "  He's  come  home!  " 

"You  ol'  son-of-a-gun !  "  bellowed  Big  Bill,  half 
in  the  surly  anger  which  is  the  natural  right  of  a  man 
rudely  awakened,  half  in  tremulous  joy.  '*  Wait 
ontil  I  git  my  eyes  open  good  an'  I'll  roll  you  like 
you  was  dough  an'  I'm  makin'  biscuits  out'n  you !  " 

Evidently  he  had  his  eyes  "  open  good  "  before 
he  had  done  talking.  He  was  upon  his  feet,  the 
big,  swaying  body  oddly  like  a  clumsy  black  bear's, 


HOME  COMING  OF  RED  RECKLESS    69 

his  big  hands  lifted  in  front  of  him.  And  then  he 
threw  himself  forward,  close  to  two  hundred  and 
fifty  pounds  of  brawn  and  bone  hurled  like  a  boulder 
from  a  catapult.  Some  one  had  turned  up  the 
lantern  wick.  [The  black  head  and  the  red  head 
from  which  the  hat  had  dropped  came  together, 
there  was  the  thud  of  two  strong  bodies  meeting 
with  an  impact  that  brought  a  little  coughing  grunt 
from  each,  and  Red  Reckless  had  done  what  any 
man  must  do  before  such  a  thunderbolt.  He  was 
flung  backward,  went  down,  and  the  two  big  bodies 
struck  hard  upon  the  bare  floor.  And  above  the 
crash  of  the  falling  bodies  there  were  two  other 
sounds,  Big  Bill's  grunt,  and  the  laughter  of  Red 
Reckless. 

They  were  down,  and  Big  Bill  was  topmost.  But 
by  the  laws  of  the  game  a  man  must  be  forced  back 
until  his  two  shoulders  touch  the  floor  before  he  is 
beaten.  Wayne  Shandon's  left  shoulder  was  still 
two  inches  from  the  floor. 

"  You  would  wake  a  man  up,"  grumbled  Big  Bill 
with  that  fierceness  of  tone  which  spoke  a  moment 
of  rare  delight. 

"  I'm  going  to  show  you  something,  Bill,"  gasped 
Wayne,  half  choked  with  the  breath  driven  out  of 
his  lungs  by  the  great  bulk  on  top  of  him  and  by  the 
laughter  within  his  soul  which  had  not  been  driven 
out.  "  Something  I  learned  from  a  Jap  about  three 
feet  high.  It  cost  me  a  hundred  dollars  and  a 
broken  collar  bone.  I'll  let  you  off  easier,  Bill." 


70  THE  SHORT  CUT 

The  light  was  none  too  good,  perhaps  the  boys 
were  not  yet  wide  awake.  They  didn't  know  how 
the  trick  was  done,  and  it  wasn't  at  all  clear  to  Big 
Bill. 

Wayne  seemed  to  grow  very  limp  beneath  his 
hard  hands  and  watchful  eyes.  Ready  for  trickery 
Big  Bill,  while  he  bore  down  hard  on  the  left 
shoulder,  and  wrenched  and  twisted  at  the  corded 
neck,  expected  anything.  He  had  considerably  less 
respect  for  a  Jap  than  for  a  horse,  looking  upon  the 
race  as  mimicking  apes  and  not  men  at  all,  and  he 
had  no  wish  to  be  bested  by  a  Jap  trick.  Yet  Big 
Bill  didn't  understand. 

Somehow  Wayne  Shandon  slipping  out  of  Bill's 
grasp  like  an  eel  through  its  native  mud,  had  run 
an  arm  under  his  left  arm  pit,  around  his  neck,  over 
his  right  shoulder.  Wayne's  left  hand  leaped  to 
Big  Bill's  right  wrist.  Bill  felt  that  his  neck  was 
breaking,  that  his  right  arm  was  broken.  And  then 
he  knew  that  Wayne  was  upon  his  knees,  that  his 
own  two  hundred  and  fifty  pounds  of  big  battling 
body  were  lifted  high  from  the  floor,  that  he  was 
jerked  sideways  and  slammed  down.  And  then 
the  boys  were  laughing  and  Wayne  stood  over  him, 
laughing  too,  and  he  knew  that  his  two  big  shoulder 
blades  had  struck  the  floor  together. 

"  It's  a  damn'  Jap  trick,"  he  muttered,  more  than 
half  angry  now,  flinging  himself  to  his  feet. 
"  White  man's  fightin'  I  c'n  lick  every  inch  of  you 
from  red  hair  to  toe  nails." 


HOME  COMING  OF  RED  RECKLESS    71 

But  Red  Reckless  was  laughing  and  shaking  hands 
all  round  and  Big  Bill  found  no  one  to  listen  to  the 
explanations  he  made.  One  after  another  the  owner 
of  the  outfit  greeted  warmly  the  men  who  were 
working  for  him.  Then  he  swung  about,  and  went 
back  to  Big  Bill. 

"  Shake,  Bill,"  he  cried.  "  It  was  rather  a  mean 
trick  to  do  you  up  to-night  but  I  couldn't  wait  until 
morning.  I'll  give  you  another  chance  when  you 
like." 

Big  Bill  grinned  and  his  hard  brown  hand  shut 
tight  about  Wayne's. 

;<  There'll  be  lots  of  chances,"  he  said  shortly,  his 
voice  fierce,  his  black  eyes  very  gentle.  "  You've 
come  to  stay,  ain't  you,  Red?  " 

A  look  of  vast  disgust  stole  over  Garth  Conway's 
face. 

"  It's  Bill  and  Red  as  if  they're  all  dogs  in  one 
kennel,"  he  muttered.  "  It  isn't  hard  to  forecast 
what's  going  to  happen  to  a  range  with  a  boss  like 
that!" 

He  waited  a  little  restlessly  for  Wayne  to  finish 
the  conversation  into  which  he  had  entered  with  the 
crowd  of  cowboys  who  seemed  to  have  forgotten 
that  they  had  a  day's  work  before  them.  But 
Wayne  Shandon,  too,  seemed  to  have  forgotten. 
He  was  half  sitting  on  the  table,  one  leg  swinging, 
his  quick  hands  rolling  a  cigarette  from  the  "  mak 
ings  "  proffered  by  Tony  Harris,  his  laughing  eyes 
filled  with  the  joy  of  home  coming,  his  tongue 


72  THE  SHORT  CUT 

already  busied  with  the  answering  of  many  rapid 
fire  questions.  No,  he  hadn't  seen  all  of  the  world; 
it  was  bigger  than  they'd  think.  But  he  had  played 
"  gentleman's  poker  "  with  club  dudes  in  London, 
he  had  hunted  with  niggers  and  potted  many  strange 
things  from  an  alligator  to  a  cow  elephant,  he  had 
seen  the  pyramids — 

While  Garth  lingered  at  the  door,  the  other  men, 
crowding  closer  to  the  man  at  the  table,  grew  into 
a  charmed  circle  about  him,  a  picturesque  congrega 
tion  in  their  underclothes  of  grey  and  white  and 
washed  out  pinks  and  blues.  Within  five  minutes 
after  the  defeat  of  Big  Bill  every  man  of  them  was 
either  making  or  smoking  a  cigarette  with  all  thought 
of  their  tumbled  bunks  forgotten.  There  were 
many  demands  for  first  hand  information  concern 
ing  wild  niggers  and  pyramids  and  the  ways  of  the 
jungle;  there  were  many  exclamations  testifying  in 
mild  profanity  to  startled  wonderment.  At  last 
Garth,  turning  away,  called  out, 

"  I  say,  Wayne,  you  mustn't  forget  it's  getting 
late.  There's  a  big  day's  work  for  the  boys  to 


morrow." 


"  This  is  my  home  coming  celebration,  Garth," 
Wayne  laughed  back  at  him.  "  Hang  the  work, 
man.  We'll  have  a  half  holiday  to-morrow  if  the 
whole  outfit  goes  to  pot." 

Anything  further  Garth  had  to  remark  he  said 
angrily  to  himself  as  he  strode  away  to  the  range 
house.  And  Wayne,  with  no  further  interruption, 


HOME  COMING  OF  RED  RECKLESS    73 

explained  how  the  games  ran  at  Monte  Carlo. 
Finally,  since  there  was  nothing  in  the  world  he  had 
learned  to  love  as  he  loved  horses,  he  came  to  speak 
of  the  Derby. 

u  The  greatest  race  in  the  world,"  he  cried,  slap 
ping  his  thigh  enthusiastically.  "  Just  because  it's 
the  straightest  and  the  stakes  are  right  and  the 
horses  are  as  beautiful  as  women  and  as  swift  as 
lightning!  " 

One  o'clock  came  and  they  were  talking  horses 
and  racing,  the  men  now  upon  common  ground,  their 
eyes  bright  with  the  tale  retold  of  the  Kings'  race. 
And  before  it  was  two  Red  Reckless  was  standing 
erect  upon  his  two  feet,  his  eyes  brighter  than  the 
rest,  his  voice  leaping  out  eagerly  as  he  cried: 

"  The  greatest  race  in  the  world,  and  it's  Eng 
lish!  What  have  we  got  in  America  to  equal  it? 
We've  got  race  courses  and  big  grandstands  and 
high  stakes,  but  the  game,  the  sport  of  kings,  has 
gone  rotten  with  us!  We  ought  to  have  the  great 
est,  most  glorious  meets  of  the  world,  and  we've  got 
races  where  everything  is  crooked  from  the  crack 
of  the  pistol  to  the  Breaking  of  the  tape,  where  the 
best  horse  loses  with  the  best  jockey  up!  It's  a 
damned  shame!  That's  what  it  is.  It's  a  shame 
and  a  disgrace.  But,"  a  brighter  fire  in  his  eyes  as 
he  tossed  back  the  flaming  hair  from  his  brow  and 
hurled  his  words  at  them,  "  it  isn't  too  late  to  bring 
back  the  old  game.  It's  up  to  the  West  to  do  it, 
it's  up  to  the  cattle  country,  where  men  know  horses 


74  THE  SHORT  CUT 

and  love  them !  To  be  right  it  has  to  be  a  sport 
and  a  joy,  not  a  cursed  cold  blooded  profession. 
Let  a  man  ride  his  own  horse  and  damn  the  jockeys ! 
Let  him  bet  his  money  with  his  friends  and  damn 
the  bookies !  Here's  the  place  for  horse  racing 
right.  A  race  on  a  thoroughbred  for  a  quarter  of 
a  mile  on  a  level  stretch  of  clean  turf  with  racing 
saddle.  A  race  across  country  for  ten  miles,  twenty 
miles,  if  you  like,  on  a  cow  pony  with  any  old  saddle. 
Boys,  we'll  bring  the  game  back,  and  the  Bar  L-M 
will  be  behind  it  and  the  Bar  L-M  will  have  its 
winning  ponies  in  the  field !  " 

They  caught  eagerly  at  the  fire  of  his  words,  they 
saw  a  new  joy  come  to  the  range  lands,  they  pic 
tured  the  swift  colourful  days  of  the  meet  that 
should  be  Western  in  all  its  essentials,  fair  and  square 
and  may  the  best  horse  win.  And  they  crept  to  bed 
at  three  o'clock.  And  Red  Reckless  surprised  none 
of  these  men  who  knew  him,  when,  in  a  burst  of  his 
old  impetuosity  he  swore  to  see  the  thing  through 
if  it  cost  him  ten  thousand  dollars. 


CHAPTER  VI 

THE   PROMISE   OF   LITTLE   SAXON 

ROSE-BUD,  the  unlovely  Chinese  cook,  made 
the  dawn  hideous  in  the  range  house  with 
his  pots  and  pans  and  rattling  stove  lids. 
To  him  appeared  Red  Reckless,  touseled  and  sleepy 
eyed  looking  to  the  astonished  oriental's  vision  like 
an  avenging  demon,  threatening  to  choke  him  to 
death  with  his  own  pigtail  and  to  roast  him  crisp  and 
brown  him  in  his  own  oven  if  he  didn't  conduct  him 
self  with  less  noise  in  his  pastime  of  breakfast  get 
ting. 

"  Gollee !  "  Rose-bud  found  his  tongue  as 
Wayne  disappeared  into  his  bedroom.  "  Led,  him 
come  back  some  more.  Led,  him  boss  now!  "  He 
stood  grinning  in  slant  eyed  cunning  at  the  closed 
door.  "  Garth  him  aM  same  go  bye-bye  now,  may- 
beso?"  He  pondered  the  question,  with  his  evil 
featured  head  cocked  to  one  side.  Then  his  grin 
became  more  profoundly  Chinese,  more  radiantly 
joyful.  "  All  same  hell  pop  all  time  now." 

And  he  went  about  his  preparations  for  breakfast 
in  strange,  complacent  silence,  making  his  coffee 
twice  as  strong  as  he  had  made  it  for  a  year,  the  way 
Red  Reckless  liked  it. 

Garth  Conway  breakfasted  alone.  A  glance  out 

75 


76  THE  SHORT  CUT 

toward  the  bunk  house  against  the  fringe  of  trees 
at  the  far  side  of  the  clearing  showed  him  that  there 
was  no  smoke  there,  that  the  men  were  not  about. 
A  little  angry  spot  glowing  on  each  cheek  he 
stepped  out  upon  the  porch  as  though  to  bring  these 
slumbering  men  to  a  swift  awakening.  But  he 
turned  instead  and  came  back  into  the  dining  room. 

"  You  Chink  fool,"  he  flung  at  Rose-bud  when 
his  cup  of  coffee  was  set  in  front  of  him.  "  I  don't 
drink  ink  for  breakfast.  What's  the  matter  with 
you?" 

Rose-bud  wrapped  his  body  in  his  long  arms  and 
his  face  in  its  childish  smile,  lifted  his  vague  hints 
of  eyebrows  archly  and  nodded  toward  Wayne's 
room. 

"  Led,  him  come  back,"  he  said  with  unutterable 
sweetness.  "  Him  like  coffee  all  same  black  as  hell. 
Him  boss  now?  Too  bad.  You  damn  fine  boss, 
Mis'  Garth." 

And  he  shuffled  back  to  the  stove  leaving  Garth 
scowling  angrily  after  him. 

Garth  breakfasted  in  morose  silence,  disregarding 
the  many  joyful  glances  which  Rose-bud  directed 
upon  him.  Afterward  he  took  out  his  pipe  and 
stuffed  it  full  with  an  impatient  finger.  The  hesita 
tion  which  had  marked  him  last  night  seemed  to 
grow  with  the  slow  hours  of  the  idle  morning.  He 
had  long  been  absolute,  unquestioned  dictator  of  the 
destiny  of  the  Bar  L-M,  and  he  had  grown  natural 
ly  into  the  way  of  regarding  it  half  with  the  eye  of 


THE  PROMISE  OF  LITTLE  SAXON     77 

its  permanent  master.  It  had  not  only  been  nis  en 
tirely  so  far  as  management  was  concerned  for  more 
than  twelve  months,  but  there  had  been  always  the 
possibility  that  it  would  be  his  to  have  and  to  hold, 
to  do  with  as  he  thought  best,  if  Wayne  should  not 
come  back.  But  Wayne  had  come  back.  The 
coffee  was  eloquent  of  the  fact;  the  slothfulness  of 
the  bunk  house  shouted  it  in  his  ears.  He  felt  a 
sense  of  irritation,  of  injustice. 

"  The  men  will  sleep  until  noon,"  he  growled  sav 
agely.  "  Good  heavens,  is  he  crazy?  Must  he 
come  back  and  chuck  the  whole  thing  to  the  dogs?  " 

There  was  nothing  to  do  but  smoke  and  wait  for 
the  next  absurdity  of  a  man  who  had  played  ducks 
and  drakes  with  everything  he  had  ever  had,  who 
was  too  big  a  fool  to  see  —  or  care,  which  was  it? 
—  what  was  going  to  happen  when  he  had  run  to 
the  end  of  his  rope. 

Wayne,  rosy  from  head  to  foot  from  his  rough 
bath  towel,  tingling  with  the  leaping  life  within  him, 
showing  no  signs  of  the  all  but  sleepless  night,  came 
out  to  breakfast  before  Garth  had  finished  his  pipe. 
He  caught  Rose-bud  by  the  two  shoulders,  drove 
him  back  against  the  wall  and  held  him  there  while 
he  spoke  to  him. 

u  I've  a  notion  to  jam  you  through  into  the  other 
room,  you  yellow  heathen,"  he  informed  the  cook 
whose  smile  was  just  a  trifle  uncertain.  "  If  the 
coffee  is  good  I'll  let  you  off." 

Rose-bud's    smile    became    radiant    immediately. 


78  THE  SHORT  CUT 

He  poured  out  the  black  beverage  with  the  air  of  a 
magician  conjuring  a  stream  of  gold  from  the  old 
coffee  pot,  and  evinced  as  great  a  pleasure  in  watch 
ing  Wayne  dispose  of  his  breakfast  as  Wayne  him 
self  manifested  in  the  act.  Garth  came  back  into  the 
room  while  his  cousin  was  eating. 

"  Well,  Wayne,"  he  said.  "What's  the  bill  of 
fare  for  the  day?  " 

Shandon  nodded,  swallowed  and  bade  Garth  a 
cheery  "  Good  morning." 

"  To-day?  "  he  repeated  after  his  cousin.  "  I'm 
just  going  to  get  a  live  horse  between  my  legs  and 
ride!  Big  Bill  tells  me  that  no  man  has  thrown  a 
leg  over  Lightfoot's  back  since  I  left,  and  that  she's 
just  full  of  hell  and  mustard  and  aching  for  a 
scamper.  Bill  knows  where  she  is;  he's  going  with 
me  to  help  round  her  up  and  then  .  .  ." 

"  Well?  "  questioned  Garth  drily.  "  You're  go 
ing  to  work  on  her  to-day?  " 

Shandon  laughed. 

"  Who  said  anything  about  work?  You're  grow 
ing  to  be  an  awful  sobersides,  old  fellow.  Here  I 
haven't  been  back  twenty-four  hours  and  you're 
already  suggesting  that  I  shove  my  neck  into  the 
yoke.  Now,  you  ought  to  know  better  than  that." 

Garth  drew  deeply  at  his  pipe,  his  lips  tight  about 
the  stem. 

"  You  haven't  changed  much,  Wayne,"  he  said 
presently. 

"Who    wants    to    change?"    Shandon    retorted 


THE  PROMISE  OF  LITTLE  SAXON     79 

lightly.  "  One  would  think  I'd  been  away  ten  years 
and  it  was  time  for  grey  hairs  and  long  hours  of 
sitting  still  in  the  sun."  He  favoured  his  cousin 
with  a  merry,  searching  glance  and  added,  "  You 
haven't  changed  much  yourself  that  I  can  see.1' 

For  no  apparent  reason  Conway  flushed  slightly 
and  then  frowned. 

"  I  had  a  good  hard  day's  work  cut  out  for  the 
boys,"  he  said  casually. 

"  You're  finding  plenty  to  keep  them  busy,  I'll 
bet,"  grinned  Shandon. 

"  Yes,"  carelessly.  "  We're  a  bit  short  handed 
just  now  and  there  is  always  a  lot  to  do.  I've  let 
a  man  go  here  and  there  when  he  was  just  eating  his 
head  off  for  us.  A  half  day  lost  means  that  much 
more  hard  work  to  be  made  up." 

u  Get  them  busy  then,  will  you,  Garth?  It's 
decent  of  you  to  save  all  you  could  for  me,  but  hang 
it,  don't  mind  putting  on  a  new  man  when  we  need 
him.  The  boys  have  had  enough  sleep  by  now  and 
I've  sort  of  slipped  out  of  the  routine  of  the  work. 
Will  you  go  ahead  and  run  the  outfit  for  me  until  I 
get  back  into  it?  It  would  be  a  big  favour  to  me." 

Conway  swung  about  toward  the  door  eagerly, 
and  so  swiftly  that  Shandon  did  not  see  the  light 
that  sprang  up  in  his  eyes. 

"  Glad  to,"  he  called  back  as  he  went  out. 
4  Take  your  time  about  getting  back  into  the  traces, 
Wayne." 

"  Good  old  Garth,"  Shandon  muttered  with  deep 


8o  THE  SHORT  CUT 

satisfaction.     And    then    he    turned    his    attention 
again  to  the  biscuits  and  bacon. 

Garth  went  immediately  to  the  bunk  house.  He 
found  the  men  all  asleep;  he  left  them  all  wide 
awake. 

4  Tony,"  he  cried  sharply,  "  come  alive  there  and 
get  the  boys  some  breakfast.  You  men  know  that 
Mr.  Shandon  is  back,  don't  you?  Do  you  want 
him  to  think  that  this  is  the  way  we've  been  attend 
ing  to  his  business  for  him  while  he  was  gone  ?  Bill, 
get  a  couple  of  horses  saddled  while  Harris  is  get 
ting  breakfast  for  you,  and  as  soon  as  you  eat  report 
at  the  house  with  them.  You  are  to  help  find  Light- 
foot." 

The  boys  scrambled  out  of  their  bunks,  and  Tony 
Harris  in  picturesque  night  raiment  was  thrusting 
paper  and  kindling  into  his  stove  before  Garth  had 
gone  ten  steps  from  the  door  he  had  slammed  behind 
him.  Did  they  want  Wayne  Shandon  to  think  that 
they  had  neglected  his  interests  in  his  absence? 
Not  by  a  jug  full,  growled  Big  Bill.  And  he  wasn't 
the  kind  to  think  it  in  the  first  place  or  to  care  in 
the  second,  he  grunted  as  he  jerked  on  his  overalls 
and  shoved  his  big  feet  into  his  shoes.  Mister 
Shandon !  Huh ! 

But  they  took  their  cue  from  Conway's  sharp 
words  and  did  not  wait  for  breakfast  to  get  ready 
for  the  day's  work.  Big  Bill  was  the  first  in  the  cor 
ral  but  the  others  came  trooping  after  him,  roping 
their  horses,  saddling  and  bringing  them  to  the  bunk 


THE  PROMISE  OF  LITTLE  SAXON     81 

house  door  to  be  mounted  swiftly  as  soon  as  the 
morning  meal  could  be  finished.  And,  as  usual  little 
Andy  Jennings  saddled  an  extra  horse,  a  graceful, 
cat-footed  mare,  cream  coloured,  with  white  mane 
and  tail,  for  Garth  Conway. 

There  were  few  words  spoken  in  the  bunk  house 
as  the  men  made  their  hurried  meal.  Steve  Dun 
ham  demanded  to  be  told  if  Red  was  going  to  let 
Conway  "  run  things  "  for  him,  or  if  he  was  going 
to  be  his  own  foreman  as  his  brother  had  been 
before  him.  More  than  one  man  lifted  his  shoul 
ders  at  the  question.  And  since  there  was  no  answer 
to  be  given  yet,  since  that  was  the  one  thing  they 
were  all  thinking  about,  it  was  almost  a  wordless 
meal. 

In  a  little  while  Garth  Conway  was  back  at  the 
bunk  house  and  swung  up  into  the  saddle,  his  perfect 
animal,  his  own  graceful  form,  his  somewhat  pic 
turesque  costume,  riding  breeches,  puttees,  wide  soft 
hat  and  gauntlets  making  a  bit  of  pleasant  colour 
against  the  commonplaceness  of  the  ranch  yard. 
He  waited  impatiently  a  few  minutes  until  the  men 
came  out  and  then  rode  away  toward  the  lower  end 
of  the  valley  ordering  them  curtly  to  follow  him. 
It  was  Garth's  way;  they  didn't  know  what  the  day's 
work  was  to  be,  although  they  might  come  close  to 
guessing,  until  he  chose  to  tell  them.  Big  Bill  alone 
remained  behind,  making  his  way  with  two  horses 
to  the  house,  where  Wayne  came  down  the  steps 
to  meet  him. 


82  THE  SHORT  CUT 

"  Hello,  Bill,"  Wayne  greeted  him  lightly. 
"Feeling  sore  this  morning?" 

"  Hello,  Red,"  Big  Bill  retorted  with  what  was 
meant  to  be  a  scowl  but  which  twisted  itself  in  spite 
of  him  into  a  widening  grin.  "  Not  sore  outside, 
seein'  as  I  fell  easy.  Jus'  kinda  sore  inside  thinkin' 
you'd  go  an'  play  a  low  down  Jap  trick  on  a  man. 
But  nex'  time  .  .  ." 

He  shook  his  head  in  mock  sorrow  thinking  of 
the  thing  that  was  going  to  happen  to  the  merry 
eyed  man  from  whom  he  took  his  pay. 

Red  laughed,  strapped  on  the  spurs  clinking  at 
the  saddle  horn,  vaulted  from  the  steps  to  his 
horse's  back  and  bending  suddenly  forward  shot 
ahead  of  Big  Bill,  and  sped  toward  the  upper  end 
of  the  valley  where  the  unused  horses  were  grazing. 
The  cowboy,  racing  behind  him,  watched  him  with 
shrewd  eyes  and  a  grunted  comment  that  he  hadn't 
forgotten  how  to  ride. 

When  the  horses  had  "  run  off  "  their  early  morn 
ing  restlessness  the  two  men  drew  them  down  to  a 
swinging  walk  and  riding  side  by  side  found  much 
to  talk  about.  Shandon  asked  about  this,  that  and 
the  other  horse,  giving  each  its  name  as  if  they  were 
men  he  spoke  of,  and  Big  Bill  reported  promptly 
and  in  full  detail.  Brown  Babe  had  been  sick  dur 
ing  the  winter;  a  cold  running  on  until  it  was  touch 
and  go  if  she'd  go  down  with  the  pneumonia.  Doc 
Trip  had  taken  a  hand  though,  Bill  himself  having 
ridden  thirty  miles  to  fetch  the  cowboy  who  had  a 


THE  PROMISE  OF  LITTLE  SAXON     83 

rude  skill  as  a  veterinary  and  no  little  reputation 
with  it,  and  Brown  Babe  had  pulled  through  as  good 
as  a  two  year  old.  Her  colt  out  of  Saxon?  Say 
there  was  a  bit  of  horse  flesh  for  you!  Close  to 
three  year  old  now  and  never  a  rope  on  him.  Lit 
tle  Saxon  they  called  him.  Little?  Big  Bill 
laughed  softly.  The  name  had  stuck  since  he  had 
been  a  colt.  He  was  bigger  than  his  dad  already, 
although  not  so  heavy,  of  course,  and  he  had  more 
speed  right  now  than  his  mother  ever  thought  of 
having.  If  they  ever  did  put  on  a  race  —  Endy- 
mion,  Little  Saxon's  full  brother?  Big  Bill  shook 
his  head  and  spat  thoughtfully.  Sold  six  months 
ago. 

"Sold?"  cried  Shandon  sharply.  "Who  sold 
him?" 

"  Conway,  of  course.  He's  the  only  man  as  has 
sold  any  Bar  I^-M  stock." 

Shandon  started  to  speak,  then  closed  his  lips 
tightly.  Big  Bill  looked  at  him  quickly,  then  drew 
his  eyes  away  and  let  them  rest  upon  his  horse's 
bobbing  ears. 

"  Of  course  Garth  couldn't  know  that  I  didn't 
want  any  of  the  horses,  the  best  horses,  sold,"  Shan 
don  said  quietly  after  a  moment.  "  I  wrote  to  him 
to  use  his  own  judgment  in  all  things,  to  sell  and 
buy  as  he  thought  best.  It  isn't  his  fault  but  — 
Hang  it,  I'm  just  a  little  sorry  I  didn't  think  to  tell 
him.  Who  bought  Endymion,  Bill?" 

"  Sledge  Hume,"  answered  Big  Bill.     "  He  was 


84  THE  SHORT  CUT 

crazy  stuck  on  the  colt  the  firs'  time  he  ever  laid  eyes 
on  him.  I  guess  Conway  held  him  up  for  a  pretty 
stiff  price  too.  He  sure  had  the  chance." 

"  So  Hume  bought  Endymion,"  said  Shandon 
thoughtfully.  And  he  seemed  less  pleased  than 
before.  "  Oh,  well,  we'll  see  what  we  can  do  with 
Little  Saxon." 

"  Little  Saxon's  a  better  horse  any  day  in  the 
week,"  cried  Big  Bill  loyally.  "  He  ain't  got  the 
stren'th  yet,  of  course,  an'  he  ain't  got  the  savvy  as 
comes  with  trainin'.  But  he's  got  the  speed  an'  he's 
got  the  spirit.  Lord,  Red,  you've  got  a  horse 
there!  Wait  ontil  you  see  him  runnin'  with  the 
herd.  He  don't  eat  dust  off  nobody's  heels." 

Shandon's  eyes  brightened.  He  had  seen  possi 
bilities  in  the  two  year  old  before  he  went  away, 
when  the  colt  belonged  to  Arthur,  and  it  was  good 
to  know  that  Little  Saxon  had  fulfilled  the  promise 
of  youth.  And  he  saw  too,  a  morning's  work  ahead 
of  him,  such  work  as  the  leaping  spirit  of  Red  Reck 
less  loved.  A  wild  scamper  across  the  upper  end 
of  the  narrow  valley,  skirting  the  lake  perhaps;  a 
headlong  race  after  a  horse  born  of  Brown  Babe 
and  the  high  spirited  stallion  Saxon;  the  swinging  of 
a  rope  in  a  hand  that  had  not  known  the  feel  of  one 
for  a  year;  and  the  final  conquest  that  would  come 
when  at  last  that  rope  settled  about  the  defiant  neck. 

"For  we'll  get  Lightfoot  first,  Bill,"  he  said 
eagerly.  "  Little  Saxon'll  have  to  go  some  when 
I've  got  Lady  Lightfoot  under  me.  And  then  we'll 


THE  PROMISE  OF  LITTLE  SAXON     85 

take  the  three  year  old  in  and  begin  breaking  him." 

Big  Bill  chuckled  joyously.  And  as  Garth  had 
said  before  him  he  muttered  that  Wayne  Shandon 
hadn't  changed  much. 

As  they  rode  the  valley  widened  for  a  little  before 
them,  the  steep  wall  of  cliffs  and  crags  drawing  back 
upon  the  right,  lifting  their  crests  ever  higher, 
topped  by  few  scattering  pines,  firs  and  tamaracks. 
Here  and  there  a  giant  cedar  flourished  in  isolated 
majesty,  lifting  its  delicately  formed  cones  a  hun 
dred  and  fifty  feet  above  its  ancient,  gnarled  roots. 
The  valley  itself  was  for  the  most  part  clear  of  tim 
ber  and  scrub.  The  herds  had  not  yet  come  up  here 
this  year,  and  would  not  come  until  the  lower  end 
had  been  thoroughly  fed  off.  For  here  there  would 
be  grazing  land  in  abundance  until  the  winter  came 
and  all  herds  must  be  moved  to  the  pastures  far  down 
the  mountains  where  the  snow  fall  was  never  more 
than  a  few  thawing  inches. 

Conversation  between  the  two  men  died  down 
as  they  pushed  deeper  into  the  solitudes.  When 
they  had  ridden  a  couple  of  miles,  the  valley  nar 
rowed  again,  the  timber  line  crept  in  closer  at  every 
yard,  the  mountains  drew  in  abruptly  and  rose  more 
precipitously  in  sheer,  frowning,  dominant  majesty, 
the  river  shot  hissing  down  its  rocky  course,  a  wild 
thing  plunging  madly  toward  freedom  and  an  open 
world. 

So  with  few  words,  each  man's  thoughts  wander 
ing  as  chance  and  the  river  and  mountains  directed 


86  THE  SHORT  CUT 

them,  Shandon  and  Big  Bill  rode  slowly.  That 
trail  brought  them  at  last  down  close  to  the  edge 
of  the  stream  as  the  banks  on  either  hand  drew 
closer  together  until  finally  the  water  choked  and 
fumed  and  thundered  through  a  narrow  pass. 
Here  they  must  turn  away  from  its  course,  climbing 
a  steep  shoulder  of  the  mountain,  making  a  difficult 
way  along  a  seldom  used  trail,  until  they  came  to 
the  crest  of  the  ridge  which  shot  down  from  the 
right.  Another  fifty  yards,  almost  level  going,  a 
steep  descent  and  suddenly  the  fury  of  the  river  was 
but  a  faint  rumbling  in  their  ears,  the  stillness  of  the 
mountains  crept  down  on  them  and  they  were  at  the 
margin  of  Laughter  Lake. 

With  a  sigh  long,  deep,  lung  filling,  Wayne  Shan 
don  curbed  his  horse  to  a  standstill.  Big  Bill  turned 
his  head  away  and  a  little  hurriedly  sought  for  his 
"  makings."  For  Big  Bill  had  a  memory,  as  so 
many  sons  of  the  frontier  places  have,  a  memory 
that  filed  and  kept  record  of  little  things  as  well  as 
of  what  the  world  calls  big  things.  He  remem 
bered  the  day  when  Wayne  Shandon  had  last  ridden 
here,  just  the  day  before  Arthur  was  killed. 
Wayne  and  Arthur  had  come  here  together;  Arthur 
with  some  business  reason,  of  course;  equally  of 
course  Wayne  in  a  mere  spirit  of  idling.  The 
younger  brother  had  ridden  along  to  try  out  a  new 
rifle  he  had  bought  — 

"  Come  on,  Bill.     Let's  find  the  horses." 
Wayne  leaned  forward  suddenly  in  the  saddle, 


THE  PROMISE  OF  LITTLE  SAXON     87 

loosened  his  reins  and  touched  his  horse's  sides  with 
his  spurred  heels.  And  so  they  raced  along  the 
side  of  the  lake  as  they  had  raced  from  the  range 
house,  Red  Reckless  sitting  straight  in  the  saddle, 
his  head  lifted,  his  broad  hat  pushed  far  back,  his 
tall,  powerful  body  swaying  gracefully,  easily  with 
his  horse's  stride. 

They  found  Lady  Lightfoot  with  a  herd  of  half 
wild  animals  in  a  little  hollow  beyond  the  head  of 
the  lake.  A  great  snorting  and  stamping,  a  flinging 
aloft  of  proud  heads  upon  arching  necks,  the  flurry  of 
manes  and  tails,  black,  red,  white,  all  confused  in  a 
rush  of  colour,  the  hammering  thud  of  unshod  hoofs 
on  soft  grassy  soil  and  the  herd  had  followed  Lady 
Lightfoot's  lead  in  wild  flight  toward  the  far  end 
of  the  tiny  valley.  A  wonderful  creature  was 
Lady  Lightfoot,  trim  and  slender  and  graceful  as 
a  maiden,  her  coat  a  little  rough  from  her  year  in 
the  woods,  her  silken  mane  snarled,  but  her  spirit 
showing  in  the  toss  of  her  head,  the  cock  of  her  ears, 
the  flare  of  her  nostrils,  the  fire  of  her  eyes. 

"  Watch !"  yelled  Big  Bill  as  he  and  Shandon 
thundered  along  after  them,  their  ropes  already  in 
their  hands,  nooses  widening.  "  See  who  takes  her 
lead  away  from  her!  " 

It  was  half  a  mile  to  the  far  end  of  the  little  val 
ley  where  the  almost  sheer  pitch  of  the  mountains 
would  bring  the  fleeing  animals  to  a  stop.  And 
before  they  had  gone  a  hundred  yards  Wayne  Shan- 
don's  eyes  had  discovered  Little  Saxon, 


88  THE  SHORT  CUT 

The  colt  had  been  almost  the  last  of  the  two 
score  horses  when  their  startled  flight  began;  al 
ready  he  was  seeking  the  place  that  was  rightfully 
his,  already  he  had  passed  half  of  the  herd  and 
running  like  some  great  greyhound,  was  eating  up 
the  distance  which  lay  between  his  outstretched  nose 
and  Lady  Lightfoot's  flickering  hoofs.  A  horse 
to  be  seen  in  a  flash  by  a  knowing  eye  even  in  a  herd 
many  times  bigger  than  this  one.  A  king  of  a  horse, 
standing  a  hand  taller  than  the  tallest  of  his  com 
panions,  with  great  flowing  muscles  moving  liquidly, 
with  iron  lungs  under  a  vast  iron  chest,  with  a  neck 
every  fine  line  of  which  revealed  the  racing  thorough 
bred,  with  tireless  strength  in  the  tensing  shoulders 
and  hips,  with  speed  in  the  delicately  formed,  slender 
legs;  running  easily,  every  leaping  stride  hurling  his 
great  body  in  advance  of  some  one  of  the  other 
horses,  his  floating  mane  and  tail  spun  silk  that 
flashed  in  the  sun  like  shimmering  gold,  his  flashing 
hoofs  like  a  deer's  for  dainty  grace,  his  coat  a  deep, 
rich,  red  bay. 

"  Watch  him  run !  "  shouted  Big  Bill.  "  Watch 
him  run !  " 

Two  lengths  behind  Lady  Lightfoot,  a  length 
.  .  .  and  then  Little  Saxon  had  slipped  by,  flashed 
by,  passed  like  a  gleam  of  summer  sunlight,  and  the 
mare  snapped  viciously  at  the  lean,  clean  body  that 
brushed  against  her  own,  robbing  her  of  her  place. 
Big  Bill  laughed  joyously. 

"  Jealous  as  a  cat,  huh,  Red?     See  that?  " 


THE  PROMISE  OF  LITTLE  SAXON     89 

"  And  no  man  has  ever  ridden  him/'  muttered 
Shandon.  "  Only  one  man  is  ever  going  to  ride  you, 
Little  Saxon." 

But  that  day  they  did  not  take  Little  Saxon  with 
them  back  to  the  home  corrals;  it  would  be  many  a 
day  yet  before  Little  Saxon's  training  began,  before 
his  proud  spirit  compromised  with  steel  and  leather 
and  a  master's  hand. 

With  half  the  distance  to  the  far  end  of  the  little 
valley  passed,  Little  Saxon  was  a  length  ahead  of 
Lady  Lightfoot,  his  quivering  nostrils  scenting 
danger  behind,  free  range  and  freedom  ahead. 
Thus  Little  Saxon  first,  Lady  Lightfoot  jealously 
guarding  and  keeping  her  place  as  second  in  the 
headlong  flight,  a  slim  barrelled  sorrel  close  at  the 
Lady's  heels,  the  rest  of  the  horses  following  in  a 
close  packed  body,  the  fleeing  animals  came  to  the 
natural  bulwark  which  the  mountains  lifted  before 
them.  Their  ropes  swinging  in  ever  widening 
loops,  hissing  swifter  and  swifter  until  in  broaden 
ing  circles  they  sang  shrilly,  Wayne  Shandon  and 
Big  Bill  swept  on  after  them. 

"  Lightfoot  first!"  cried  Shandon  sharply. 
"  It's  too  rocky,  Bill  — " 

The  ground  was  too  broken  to  chance  putting 
a  rope  over  the  defiant  neck  of  the  three  year 
old  who  had  never  known  what  it  was  to  have 
hemp  touch  his  lithe  body.  With  Lady  Lightfoot 
it  was  different.  She  would  leap  aside,  she  would 
throw  her  head  one  way  or  the  other  as  she  saw  the 


90  THE  SHORT  CUT 

lasso  leave  the  hand  of  her  would-be  captor;  but 
once  it  touched  her  she  would  stop  stone  still,  too 
wise,  too  experienced  to  struggle  against  the  inevit 
able. 

At  last  the  fleeing  horses  stopped,  whirled  and 
with  up-pricked  ears  and  flashing  eyes  waited  and 
watched.  Lady  Lightfoot's  angry  snort  trumpeted 
her  fear  and  defiance;  she  moved  not  so  much  as  a 
muscle  except  of  her  eyes  which  swept  swiftly  back 
and  forth  from  Big  Bill  to  Shandon,  from  Shandon 
to  Big  Bill.  Then,  as  almost  at  the  same  instant  two 
ropes  sped  their  hissing  way  toward  her  she  leaped 
forward,  swerved  aside,  dropped  her  head  a  little 
—  and  then,  instead  of  breaking  into  a  wild  flight, 
she  bunched  her  four  feet  and  slid  to  a  trembling 
standstill  before  either  rope  had  tightened  about  a 
steel  saddle  horn. 

"Wise  oP  lady,"  chuckled  Big  Bill  as  he  and 
Shandon  rode  closer  to  the  mare  coiling  their  ropes. 
"  Ain't  forgot  who's  who,  have  you,  Lady?  " 

The  other  horses  saw  their  chance  and  took  it. 
Little  Saxon  in  the  lead  from  the  first  terrified  leap, 
they  shot  by  Lady  Lightfoot,  swerved  widely  about 
Shandon,  and  were  off  and  away  down  the  valley. 

"  Let  'em  go,"  cried  Shandon.  "  We'll  follow 
in  a  minute  and  drive  them  on  down  to  the  corrals." 

He  swung  down  from  his  saddle  and  went  up  to 
Lady  Lightfoot's  high  lifted  head,  a  head  that  rose 
higher  in  the  air  as  he  drew  near.  Laying  a  gentle 
hand  on  the  quivering  nose,  he  rubbed  it  softly, 


THE  PROMISE  OF  LITTLE  SAXON    91 

speaking  to  the  animal  in  a  tone  that  coaxed  and 
soothed  and  assured.  He  talked  to  her  as  a  man 
talks  who  loves  a  horse,  understands  it  —  as  he 
might  talk  to  a  human  being.  And  Big  Bill,  watch 
ing,  nodded  and  grunted  approval  as  he  saw  Shandon 
slip  the  hard  bit  between  the  strong  teeth,  and 
at  last  swing  up  into  the  saddle  and  turn  a  high 
spirited  but  well  trained  and  obedient  mare  down 
the  valley  after  the  runaways. 

Fifteen  minutes  later  they  caught  up  with  the 
stragglers  of  Little  Saxon's  followers.  And  it  was 
then  that  Little  Saxon  snorted  his  last  defiance  at 
pursuit  and  achieved  his  freedom. 

The  animals  had  been  driven  again  into  a  wood 
land  cul  de  sac.  Here  there  was  a  wide  reaching 
plot  of  grassy,  unbroken  soil,  and  here  the  two  men 
counted  upon  teaching  the  three  year  old  his  first 
lesson  of  the  supremacy  of  man.  As  they  drew 
nearer  their  ropes  were  again  ready,  trailing  at  their 
sides.  Again  the  horses  drew  close  together, 
bunched  in  a  mass  of  watchful  distrust.  Little 
Saxon  alone  held  slightly  apart,  his  great  head  lifted 
high,  scenting  mischief.  He  saw  the  ropes  before 
they  were  lifted,  and  at  the  first  whirl  of  hemp  into 
the  hated  loop  he  knew  instinctively  that  it  was  he 
whom  they  threatened. 

u  We've  got  him,"  grunted  Big  Bill,  confident  too 
soon  of  easy  victory. 

Behind  the  herd  rose  the  cliffs,  in  front  the  men 
came  on  and  at  the  side  was  a  deep  gorge,  so  steep 


92  THE  SHORT  CUT 

sided  that  a  horse  would  not  think  of  going  down  into 
it,  washed  wide  by  the  spring  torrents.  It  never 
entered  Big  Bill's  head  nor  Wayne  Shandon's  nor 
the  heads  of  the  terrified  companions  of  Little  Saxon 
that  there  was  a  way  in  that  direction  open  for  flight. 
But  Little  Saxon  saw  his  enemies  coming  threaten 
ingly  nearer  and  he  took  his  chance.  He  drew  back 
until  his  golden  tail  swept  the  granite  cliffs;  he 
paused  there  a  brief  second,  with  flashing  eyes, 
measuring  chance  and  distance ;  he  gathered  his  great 
muscles  as  he  had  never  gathered  them  before;  his 
vast  chest  swelled  to  a  mighty  sigh;  and  then,  before 
Wayne  Shandon  or  Big  Bill  had  guessed  the  plan 
that  had  risen  in  his  brain  he  had  wagered  his  life 
against  his  liberty. 

"  Back,  Bill ! "  shouted  Shandon  warningly, 
throwing  Lady  Lightfoot  back  on  her  haunches, 
swinging  her  away  from  the  plunging  three  year  old. 
"  He's  going  to  jump !  " 

"God!"  yelled  Big  Bill,  as  he  too  jerked  his 
horse  back.  "  He'll  break  his  neck!  " 

They  saw  the  big  horse  running,  already  as  a  blur 
of  speed  before  he  had  done  the  thirty  yards  to  the 
rock  walled  gorge,  saw  the  glinting  light  from  float 
ing  mane  and  tail,  heard  the  thunder  of  his  pound 
ing  hoofs,  and  then  — 

[Then  Little  Saxon  put  into  his  gliding  muscles  all 
of  the  thoroughbred  spirit  that  was  in  his  blood, 
and  taking  recklessly  his  one  chance  he  hurled  his 
great  body  forward,  leaping  splendidly.  For  an 


THE  PROMISE  OF  LITTLE  SAXON    93 

instant  as  that  rebellious,  beautiful  body  was  sus 
pended  in  mid  air,  high  above  certain  death,  neither 
man  breathed.  Then,  with  the  sharp  sound  of  hard 
hoofs  striking  hard  rock,  Little  Saxon  landed  easily 
and  safely  upon  the  far  side,  and  his  silken  mane, 
flowing  tail  and  red  bay  hide  shining  with  a  metallic 
gleam  in  the  sunlight,  he  had  passed  on,  through  the 
trees,  into  an  open  trail,  around  a  bend  and  out  of 
sight. 

Big  Bill  rode  close  up  to  the  gorge. 

"  I  wouldn't  jump  a  horse  acrost  that  for  a  mil 
lion  dollars!"  he  said,  wondering  at  what  he  had 
seen. 

And  Wayne  Shandon,  his  eyes  very  bright,  his 
face  a  little  flushed,  cried  eagerly, 

"  A  mere  horse,  no.  But  Little  Saxon  isn't  that ! 
He's  more  clean  spirit  than  horse  flesh !  " 

Big  Bill  did  not  answer.  Perhaps  he  had  not 
heard.  He  was  thinking: 

"  When  he  does  break  Little  Saxon  —  that  wild 
devil  of  a  man  on  that  wild  devil  of  a  horse  — 
What  a  pair  of  them !  " 


W 


CHAPTER  VII 

THE   GLADNESS   THAT   SINGS 
ELL?"    laughingly.     "Don't   you   know 


me?" 


Wayne  Shandon,  riding  idly  down  a 
lane  through  the  pines,  had  come  close  before  he 
saw  her  sitting  with  her  back  to  a  tree,  her  camera 
and  empty  lunch  basket  lying  beside  her.  He  had 
left  Big  Bill  and  had  come  on  alone,  passing  around 
the  head  of  the  lake  and  following  the  trail  which 
Little  Saxon's  flying  hoofs  had  made  in  the  fresh 
sod.  Now,  as  with  a  quick  hand  upon  Lady  Light- 
foot's  reins  he  came  to  a  stop,  he  very  promptly  for 
got  all  about  Little  Saxon. 

The  girl,  leaving  Gypsy  tethered  beyond  a  grove 
of  firs,  had  found  upon  the  skirt  of  a  densely  wooded 
slope  a  spot  that  was  like  a  corner  of  a  woodland 
fairyland,  dim  and  dusky  and  sweet  scented.  The 
noontide  was  warm  with  the  rippling  sunlight  above, 
a  down-filtering  ray  touched  her  bare  head  and 
dropped  flecks  of  gold  in  her  braided  hair. 

Shandon,  motionless  for  a  little,  did  not  speak  nor 
did  his  expression  change  except  that  it  grew  more 
frankly  filled  with  admiration,  with  sheer  wonder  at 
her  loveliness. 

"  Really,"  she  bantered,  still  laughingly,  not  to  be 

94 


THE  GLADNESS  THAT  SINGS        95 

confused  by  her  old  playfellow's  look.  u  I'm  neither 
ghost,  goblin  nor  evil  spirit,  nor  anything  worse  than 
just  a  girl,  you  know!  " 

"Are  you  .  .  .  just  a  girl?"  He  raised  his 
hand  slowly,  lifting  his  hat.  But  not  yet  did  he  smile 
back  into  her  smiling  eyes.  She  had  never  seen  him 
so  grave.  "  I  don't  know.  You  are  not  the  same 
girl  I  used  to  know." 

"  Why,  Wayne,"  she  retorted  merrily.  "  It's 
only  a  year.  You  weren't  expecting  wrinkles  al 
ready,  were  you?  " 

The  steadiness  of  his  gaze  made  her  wonder. 
His  eyes  clung  to  hers  for  a  long  moment,  left  them 
to  travel  swiftly  up  and  down  the  sweet  young  body 
that  was  no  longer  the  body  of  "  just  a  girl,"  noted 
how  wonderfully  the  promise  of  girlhood  had  been 
fulfilled  in  budding  womanhood,  came  back  to  her 
hair  and  throat  and  smiling  mouth,  rested  again  upon 
her  eyes. 

'*  You  are  not  the  same  Wanda  I  used  to  know," 
he  insisted  soberly  r  shaking  his  head  at  her.  "  Not 
the  Wanda  I  used  to  play  with  at  school,  to  hunt 
birds'  nests  with,  to  steal  apples  for,  to  fight  other 
boys  for.  Who  are  you,  you  wonderful  thing?  " 

"  The  same  Wanda,"  she  told  him  merrily. 
"  And,  if  you  please,  not  a  thing  at  all." 

"  Do  you  remember,"  he  went  on  quietly,  still 
gently  serious,  "  the  day  when  I  whipped  little 
Willie  Thorp  for  you?" 

4  Yes,"  she  answered  lightly,  yet  not  remember- 


96  THE  SHORT  CUT 

ing  all  that  he  remembered.  "  Of  course. 
You  — " 

"  You  came  and  put  both  little  fat,  warm,  sun 
burned  arms  round  me  and  kissed  me  then,  Wanda. 
Would  you  kiss  me  now?  " 

"  You  should  have  said  that  last  night,"  she 
dimpled  up  at  him.  She  thought  she  knew  him  too 
well  to  take  him  seriously  when  he  dropped  into  one 
of  his  bantering  moods,  just  trying  perhaps  to  see  if 
he  could  drive  a  little  flush  of  confusion  into  her 
cheeks.  "  I  was  so  glad  to  see  you,  I  might  have 
forgotten  I  had  grown  up.  That  we  have  grown 
up,*'  she  said. 

"  I  wish  I  had,"  he  said  abruptly,  flinging  his  head 
up  with  the  old  gesture  she  remembered  so  well. 
"  Wanda,  you  are  the  most  wonderful  girl-woman 
in  the  world!  What  has  happened  to  you?  What 
have  you  done  to  yourself?  What  have  you  done 
to  your  eyes?  Do  you  know,  Miss  Wanda  Leland 

—  are  you  a  little  witch  and  do  you  do  it  on  purpose  ? 

—  that  those  two  eyes  of  yours  can  make  madness 
in  a  man's  soul?  " 

"  Flatterer !  "  she  countered  brightly.  "  Have 
you  been  a  whole  year  making  pretty  speeches,  and 
must  you  keep  it  up  now  because  you've  got  into  the 
habit  and  since  the  pretty  ladies  of  your  travels  are 
not  here  and  I  am?  Aren't  you  a  little  bit  ashamed 
of  yourself?  Aren't  you  afraid  that  you  will  create 
havoc  by  putting  a  lot  of  foolish  ideas  into  a  coun 
try  girl's  head?  " 


THE  GLADNESS  THAT  SINGS        97 

He  laughed  at  last,  becoming  suddenly  the  same 
old  Red  Reckless  that  he  had  always  been,  and 
swung  down  lightly  from  the  saddle.  Dropping 
Lady  Lightfoot's  reins  to  the  ground  he  came  to 
where  Wanda  sat  and  having  stood  over  her  a  mo 
ment  looking  down  into  the  clear  eyes  which  were 
turned  frankly  up  to  him  he  made  himself  comfort 
able  at  her  feet,  stretching  luxuriously  in  the  warm 
grass. 

"  It's  great  to  be  back,  Wanda,"  he  said  musingly, 
with  a  deep  sigh  of  content.  "  You  are  going  to 
squander  a  little  of  your  precious  time  on  me,  aren't 
you?  I've  been  deucedly  energetic  all  morning; 
now  I'm  just  brimful  of  sunshine  and  laziness.  So 
lazy  that  I  want  just  to  smoke  and  watch  you  and 
listen  while  you  talk.  You  will  have  a  whole  lot  to 
tell  me  about  all  the  things  you've  been  doing  while 
I  was  away." 

She  gathered  her  knees  into  her  clasped  hands  and 
smiled  down  upon  the  flaming  red  hair.  Before  he 
made  his  cigarette  she  found  herself  answering  his 
questions,  telling  about  her  life  during  his  absence. 

As  she  talked  she  saw  his  face  only  now  and  then 
when  he  turned  a  little  to  laugh  up  at  her  over  some 
trifle  that  amused  him.  The  story  of  this  year  of 
her  life  as  she  told  it  was  a  simple,  homely  little  tale, 
a  quiet  pastoral  of  happy  content.  It  had  to  do 
largely  with  herself  and  her  work,  with  her  failures 
and  successes.  But  she  mentioned  both  Garth  and 
Sledge  Hume. 


98  THE  SHORT  CUT 

"  Hume?  "  said  Shandon,  looking  up  quickly,  this 
time  with  no  laughter  in  his  eyes.  "  Have  you  seen 
much  of  that  man,  Wanda?  " 

"  A  good  deal.  He  and  father  and  Garth  seem 
to  have  some  kind  of  business  together.  Why?" 

"  Because  I  don't  like  him,"  he  told  her  emphat 
ically.  "  I  don't  like  to  have  you  know  a  man  like 
that." 

She  did  not  mention  Hume  again.  She  admitted 
frankly  that  she  herself  disliked  the  man  although 
she  had  tried  to  think  well  of  him  because  he  was 
a  friend  of  her  father.  Running  on  with  the  ac 
count  of  her  winter  adventures,  and  laughing  at  the 
memory  of  an  incident  that  had  been  serious  enough 
at  the  time,  she  told  him  how  she  had  imperilled  her 
life  in  heedless  pursuit  of  the  snow-shoe  rabbit. 
Her  mood,  gay  for  the  moment,  was  the  sort  to 
make  light  of  things  which  had  merely  cast  a  shadow 
and  gone;  it  was  as  though  from  the  very  presence 
of  Wayne  she  had  accepted  his  theory  of  life,  the 
ability  to  live  keenly,  richly  in  the  present,  to  be 
oblivious  with  sealed  eyes  to  the  future,  careless  with 
deaf  ears  to  the  mutterings  of  the  past.  She  was 
talking  freely,  spontaneously,  laughing  from  the 
very  joy  of  life  and  the  morning  and  another  joy 
which  she  did  not  analyse,  looking  down  at  the  sun 
light  caught  flaring  in  his  hair.  And  he,  vastly  con 
tented,  listened  and  laughed  with  her. 

Then,  in  the  midst  of  the  recital  of  her  last  win 
ter's  mishap  which  she  strove  to  make  as  unimpor- 


I  want  just  to  smoke   and  watch  you  and  listen  while  you 

talk" 


THE  GLADNESS  THAT  SINGS        99 

tant  as  she  now  considered  it,  she  looked  down  at 
Wayne  Shandon  and  suddenly  broke  off  in  the  mid 
dle  of  a  word.  He  had  dropped  his  cigarette, 
the  hand  that  she  could  see  had  shut  tight  into  a 
whitened  fist,  the  colour  of  a  second  ago  had  seeped 
out  of  his  bronzed  cheek.  As  she  stopped,  wonder 
ing,  he  sprang  to  his  feet  and  towered  over  her. 

"  Wanda !  "  he  cried,  and  his  voice  was  as  un 
familiar  in  her  ears  as  the  view  of  his  drawn  face 
in  her  eyes. 

"  Wayne !  "  she  said  curiously,  staring  at  him, 
startled  and  a  little  afraid  of  she  knew  not  what. 
"  Wayne!  What  is  it?" 

"What  is  it?"  Shandon's  voice  had  dropped 
lower,  was  so  hoarse  that  it  did  not  seem  Wayne 
Shandon's  voice  at  all.  "  It  is  just  this  — " 

He  broke  off  as  sharply  as  she  had  done  and  mov 
ing  swiftly  as  though  driven  by  some  great  com 
pelling  force  which  dominated  him  he  stooped  and 
swept  her  up  into  his  arms.  She  felt  the  tightening 
muscles  as  he  drew  her  close,  closer  to  him;  felt  a 
little  tremor  running  through  his  whole  body;  heard 
the  beating  of  his  heart;  was  drawn  nearer  to  him 
than  she  had  ever  been  drawn  to  a  man  in  her  life; 
realised  for  the  first  time  in  a  flutter  of  many  sweep 
ing  emotions  how  superbly  big  and  powerful  the  man 
was,  how  almost  god-like  in  the  beauty  of  his  mus 
cular  manhood  .  .  .  and  then  she  knew  nothing  but 
the  wonderful  fact  that  he  had  kissed  her  full  upon 
her  quivering  red  mouth. 


ioo  THE  SHORT  CUT 

"  My  God,  Wanda,  how  I  love  you !  "  he  ex 
claimed  with  sudden  wild,  unleashed  vehemence. 
"  Do  you  hear  me?  "  He  was  holding  her  a  little 
away  from  him,  his  arms  still  shaking  about  her 
shoulders,  his  voice  frightening  her  with  the  vibrant 
fierceness  that  had  leaped  into  it,  the  love  in  his  eyes 
glowing  like  fire.  "  I  love  you  so  that  I'd  go 
through  Hell  to  have  you,  to  have  you  for  mine,  all 
mine!  So  that  I  might  fight  a  man  for  daring  to 
look  at  you,  that  I  might  kill  a  man  for  harming 
you !  Wanda,  girl,  I  tell  you  that  I  love  you !  Do 
you  understand?  Do  you  know  what  that  means? 
What  love  means?  When  a  man  loves  a  woman 
as  I  do?" 

Always  a  man  of  impulse,  a  man  who  through 
years  of  habit  had  grown  to  act  swiftly  in  little 
things  and  big  things  alike,  Wayne  Shandon  flung 
into  impassioned  words  the  emotions  which  swept 
through  his  soul  and  brain.  The  sight  of  Wanda 
Leland,  grown  into  the  sweet,  pure  beauty  of  early 
womanhood,  had  stirred  him  to  the  depths.  Her 
casual  mention  of  other  men,  Garth,  and  Sledge 
Hume,  had  displeased  him  so  vaguely  that  he  had  not 
fully  understood  or  cared  why.  And  then  the  light 
allusion  to  the  danger  of  death  in  which  she  had  stood 
had  been  the  spark  in  the  powder  train  of  his  love, 
his  words  exploded  from  the  seething  consciousness 
newly  awakened,  fires  long  smouldering  unsuspected 
in  his  heart  burst  forth  in  a  mighty  conflagration  of 
emotion. 


THE  GLADNESS  THAT  SINGS       101 

Throughout  his  whole  being  there  was  a  strange, 
new,  throbbing  buoyancy,  the  gladness  that  sings,  the 
joy  that  sparkles.  The  elixir  of  life  had  been  set 
suddenly  before  him.  He  did  not  taste  and  put  it 
away  as  some  men  do ;  he  did  not  sip  sparingly  and 
temperately;  but  he  drank  deeply  and  swiftly  so  that 
the  wine  of  love  tingled  through  his  blood,  made  his 
brain  reel  and  his  heart  grow  hot.  It  intoxicated 
his  soul  and  his  senses  with  a  rare,  glorious  intoxica 
tion. 

He  tossed  his  head  back,  holding  her  still  a  little 
further  from  him,  and  looked  into  her  eyes.  His 
own  had  changed  now,  changed  utterly  in  their  elo 
quent  speech.  They  had  been  fierce,  now  they  grew 
wonderfully  tender.  They  had  been  clear  and  bright 
and  eager;  and  now  they  were  misty.  The  first 
flame  of  love  had  leaped  through  his  blood;  now  an 
infinite  yearning,  as  gentle  as  tears,  rose  from  his 
heart.  Love  had  clamoured,  now  love  was  whisper 
ing.  Love  had  been  insistent;  now  it  pleaded.  It 
had  been  masterful;  now  it  knelt. 

"  You  love  me  —  like  that?  " 

The  tumult  in  the  man's  soul  had  awakened  con 
flicting  emotions  under  the  troubled,  tremulous 
breasts.  She  looked  at  him  with  wide,  clear  eyes, 
wondering.  A  miracle,  the  old,  eternal,  primal 
miracle,  had  entered  her  life.  She  had  looked 
down,  laughingly,  on  a  careless  boy;  she  had  been 
gripped  mightily  in  the  arms  of  a  being  new  to  her, 
a  man  who  loved,  From  the  clear  blue  of  her  life's 


io2  THE  SHORT  CUT 

sky  there  had  leaped  out  a  flash  of  lightning  that 
filled  the  universe  with  its  light  and  heat.  They 
had  been  two  gay  loitering  children;  now  she  saw 
the  man  shaken  in  the  gust  of  his  passion. 

"  You  love  me  —  like  that?  " 

"  God  forgive  me,  yes !  " 

His  voice  was  steady  now  but  low,  scarcely  louder 
than  her  awed  whisper.  He  dropped  his  arms,  let 
ting  them  fall  lingeringly,  and  stooping  a  little, 
touched  her  forehead  with  his  lips. 

"  And,"  he  said  with  a  reverence  which  stirred 
her  more  than  his  rude  embrace  had  done,  "  I  love 
you  like  this,  dear." 

More  often  than  not  the  story  of  one's  life  is  a 
smooth  running  tale,  the  day's  page  turning  gently, 
going  on  with  the  unfinished  sentence  of  yesterday, 
the  end  of  each  little  chapter  guessed  before  it  has 
been  read.  But  there  are  times  when  the  leaves  no 
longer  turn  slowly  but  are  caught  in  a  sudden  gust 
that  sends  them  fluttering  like  dead  leaves  in  a  Sep 
tember  gale;  when  life  no  longer  loiters,  but  leaps 
when  the  unseen  end  of  the  chapter  is  a  mystery, 
when  the  letters  on  the  page  are  shining  gold  or  fiery 
red. 

Such  a  time  had  come  into  Wanda  Leland's  life. 
In  one  swift  moment  she  had  risen  to  a  pinnacle, 
she  had  looked  down  upon  the  level  lowlands  from 
the  heights.  The  monotony  of  the  commonplace 
receded  and  was  lost;  the  aspect  of  life  upon  which 
she  looked  was  wonderful  and  new.  There  had 


THE  GLADNESS  THAT  SINGS       103 

been  a  change  within  her.  She  was  no  longer  the 
Wanda  Leland  she  had  been  a  moment  ago,  the 
Wanda  Leland  she  had  been  throughout  the  years 
of  her  life.  Nor  would  she  ever  be  exactly  that 
same  Wanda  Leland  again. 

Revelation  had  been  lightning,  two-tongued.  It 
showed  her  herself;  it  explained,  it  touched  with 
light,  it  made  distinct  the  shadowy  things  that  had 
long  lain  in  her  breast.  And  it  showed  her  Wayne 
Shandon  as  she  had  never  seen  him. 

For  years  they  had  been  playfellows,  frank, 
almost  boyish,  both  of  them.  Now  her  heart  was 
beating  wildly  from  the  very  touch  of  him.  Had 
she  always  loved  him?  Had  he  always  loved  her? 
Was  this  wonderful,  new  thing,  love,  without  begin 
ning  as  it  surely  was  without  end? 

She  looked  wonderingly  into  his  eyes.  Her  own, 
like  his,  were  clear,  bright  one  moment,  starry  with 
a  dimness  as  of  unshed  tears  the  next.  Tenderness, 
like  a  mist,  filled  them. 

"  I  love  you,  Wayne,"  she  said,  her  voice  low, 
trembling  just  a  little,  but  clear.  "  I  want  you  all 
mine  as  you  want  me.  So  that  if  you  went  up  to 
Heaven  or  down  to  Hell  I  could  go  with  you." 

"  Wanda !  "  he  said.     "  Wanda." 

She  smiled  a  little  at  him  and  put  out  her  two 
hands. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

"  A  GAME  OF  BLUFF  AND  THE  GAMBLER  WINS !  " 

THE  spirit  of  unrest  which  Wanda  had  felt 
vaguely  the  night  before  did  not  depart  with 
the  passing  of  the  darkness.  Something 
was  wrong,  radically  wrong  at  the  Echo  Creek  ranch 
house.  Since  the  unexpected  home  coming  of  Red 
Reckless  there  had  been  a  subtle  difference,  a  ruffling 
of  the  waters  which  usually  ran  so  placidly  at  the 
country  home,  a  darkening  and  disturbation  of  the 
surface  which  hinted  at  hidden  whirlpools  and  cross 
currents. 

It  was  from  the  master  of  the  household  that  the 
day  took  its  colour.  In  his  own  room  last  night 
he  had  been  restless,  sleepless  until  very  late.  Mrs. 
Leland  had  heard  him  walking  up  and  down,  had 
heard  the  noise  of  his  pipe  against  his  tobacco  jar 
many  times  after  the  hour  when  Martin  was  in  the 
habit  of  having  his  last  smoke.  In  the  morning 
he  was  up  and  dressed  before  Julia  had  built  her  fire. 
All  day  he  was  strangely  pre-occupied  and  silent. 
He  seemed  scarcely  to  notice  Wanda  when  she  came 
into  the  dining  room  to  give  him  his  good  morning 
kiss.  That  was  unlike  him.  Both  women  noticed 
it. 

After  breakfast  he  did  not  go  out.  Instead  he 
104 


"  A  GAME  OF  BLUFF!  "  105 

went  immediately  to  his  study,  telling  Julia  sharply 
that  she  need  not  come  in  to  sweep  this  morning  as 
he  was  going  to  be  busy.  It  was  one  of  the  few 
times  he  had  spoken  at  all  that  morning,  but  not 
the  first  time  he  had  spoken  irritably.  Mrs.  Le- 
land's  eyes,  following  him  were  troubled. 

In  his  private  room  he  sat  long  at  his  big  oaken 
table,  his  brows  drawn  thoughtfully,  his  eyes  nar 
rowed  in  deep  speculation.  The  tenseness  of  the 
man's  still  figure,  the  gleam  of  the  darkening  eyes, 
the  obvious  moody  abstraction  told  that  some  vital 
question  had  come  to  him  for  its  answer,  that  he  was 
fighting  it  out  sternly,  that  the  issue  was  one  of  those 
great  issues  of  life  which  come  soon  or  late  and 
which  must  be  decided,  yes  or  no,  upon  the  battle 
ground  of  a  man's  soul. 

Three  months  ago  he  had  done  a  thing  from 
which,  at  first,  his  finer  manhood  had  drawn  back 
rebelliously.  But  —  he  had  done  it.  There  had 
been  a  struggle  then  between  the  two  nicely  balanced 
qualities  which  go  to  make  up  a  human  personality. 
The  nice  balance  had  been  disturbed  by  clever  gen 
eralship  rather  than  by  open  battle.  Specious  rea 
soning,  aided  and  abetted  by  the  temptation  of  a  rare 
opportunity,  further  reinforced  by  an  emotion  which 
was  more  or  less  selfish  even  while  it  masked  itself 
as  a  public  and  private  duty,  had  routed  the  sterner 
sense  of  justice  of  which  the  man  was,  not  without 
reason,  proud.  He  had  in  the  end  taken  the  step; 
being  done  it  had  since  then  been  dismissed  to  a 


106  THE  SHORT  CUT 

shadowy  corner  of  his  mind  by  his  own  strength  of 
character;  when  he  had  thought  of  it  had  only  grown 
stronger  in  his  belief  that  he  had  done  rightly.  And 
now  a  man  whom  he  had  never  expected  to  see  again 
had  come  home;  the  question  closed  three  months 
ago  was  still  an  open  question. 

A  grave,  strong  minded  man,  calm  by  nature, 
after  sixty  years  of  the  life  of  the  mountains  and 
forests,  he  thought  to  decide  each  action  upon  its 
own  merit  or  demerit  and  to  see  that  quality  clearly, 
keeping  his  vision  free  of  emotional  mists.  With 
such  a  man  right  and  wrong  are  two  distinct  entities, 
sharply  separate,  with  no  debateable  land.  An 
action  may  not  partake  of  each;  it  must  stand  forth 
black  or  white.  A  motive  may  not  be  enshrouded 
in  uncertainty;  it  must  be  right  or  it  must  be  wrong. 

He  questioned  himself  sternly  to-day,  frowningly 
concentrating  his  mind  upon  each  point  as  he  strug 
gled  with  it.  The  time  had  come  now  when  the 
decision  he  made  must  be  one  of  absolute  finality. 

"  What  I  am  doing  is  a  grave  thing,"  he  told  him 
self  over  and  over.  "  An  unscrupulous  man  would 
do  it  in  a  flash;  a  weak  man  might  be  afraid  of  it. 
I  must  be  neither  unscrupulous  nor  cowardly;  I  must 
be  just.  And  is  not  justice  with  me  ?  Would  I  not 
be  punishing  the  guilty,  would  I  not  be  in  a  position 
to  reward  Garth  Conway  for  a  life  of  faithful 
service,  would  I  not  be  justified  in  protecting  my 
own  interests,  the  interests  of  my  wife  and  daugh 
ter?" 


"A  GAME  OF  BLUFF!"  107 

Already,  unconsciously,  he  was  seeking  to  discover 
for  his  groping  mind  the  arguments  which  would 
acquit  him  in  his  own  judgment  and  justify  him. 

"  I  hate  him,"  he  muttered,  "  God  knows  I  hate 
him.  But  is  that  the  reason  I  am  striking  at  him? 
I  should  be  wrong  if  for  purely  personal  motives  I 
sought  to  wreck  vengeance  upon  him.  But  he  is 
guilty,  as  guilty  as  hell !  It  would  not  be  vengeance, 
it  would  be  retribution.  I  should  but  be  taking  into 
my  hands  the  work  which  God  had  set  at  my  fingers' 
ends." 

His  problem  instead  of  clarifying  became  compli 
cated  with  involved  motives.  He  told  himself 
grimly  that  the  thing  which  he  had  begun  was  just, 
merely  just.  If  the  courts  of  law  did  what  he  was 
doing  and  stopped  with  it  men's  voices  would  cry 
out  against  a  retribution  gone  blind  and  decrepit, 
maudlin  with  mercy. 

He  went  once  to  his  safe  in  the  corner,  took  out 
a  document  and  stood  looking  at  it  thoughtfully  for 
a  long  time.  Finally  he  replaced  it. 

"  I  can  ruin  him,  I  can  break  him  utterly,"  he  said 
slowly.  "  I  can  wrest  from  him  the  thing  which  he 
took  brutally  with  bloody  hands.  Because  I  am  to 
profit  where  he  loses  must  I  hold  back?  The  law 
may  never  reach  him.  Is  it  right  then  that  he 
should  go  unpunished?  The  fortune  which  one  day 
I  shall  leave  to  Wanda  will  be  either  swelled  or 
diminished  as  I  decide.  Have  I  the  right  to  draw 
back  now?  " 


io8  THE  SHORT  CUT 

The  day  dragged  on,  the  conflict  within  the  man's 
soul  continued.  Until  noon  he  was  in  his  study. 
At  the  dinner  table  he  was  silent,  morose,  and  ate 
little.  He  made  no  comment  upon  Wanda's  ab 
sence;  perhaps  he  did  not  notice  it.  Mrs.  Leland, 
understanding  readily  that  Wayne  Shandon's  return 
had  its  bearing  upon  her  husband's  heavy  mood, 
found  little  to  say.  She  could  only  hope  wistfully 
that  for  a  little  Wayne  would  come  to  the  house 
seldom,  that  Martin  would  grow  used  to  having  him 
in  the  neighbourhood,  and  that  in  the  end  he  would 
content  himself  with  ignoring  the  man  whom  she 
knew  he  disliked,  distrusted  and  suspected.  She 
thought  that  she  understood  fully  what  she  grasped 
only  in  part. 

In  the  afternoon  again,  Leland  withdrew  to  his 
private  room,  again  the  battle  between  motives  and 
desires  raged  hotly.  It  so  happened  that  Wayne 
Shandon,  appearing  at  a  critical  moment,  brought 
about  a  decision. 

Leland  was  standing  before  his  window,  his 
smouldering  eyes  frowning  at  the  meadow  down 
which  Spring  had  come,  scattering  buttercups  to  mark 
her  passing.  He  had  not  noticed  the  glossy  chalices 
brimming  with  sunlight;  the  springtime  had  had  no 
softening  effect  upon  his  absorbed  and  troubled 
mood.  But  presently  the  sight  of  two  figures  riding 
side  by  side  down  through  the  pasture  whipped  a 
new  look  into  his  eyes. 

He  watched  them  sharply  as  they  rode  toward 


"A  GAME  OF  BLUFF!"  109 

the  house.  Their  gay  voices  came  to  him  lifted 
into  soft  laughter;  their  light  merriment,  so  in 
tune  with  the  springtime,  fell  jarringly  on  Leland's 
ears. 

"  The  fellow  has  the  insolence  of  Satan,"  he  mut 
tered  angrily. 

For  a  moment  he  lost  sight  of  them  as  they  passed 
behind  the  stable.  Then,  walking,  Wanda's  face 
lifted  in  rosy  happiness,  Wayne's  like  a  boy's,  eager 
and  glad,  they  came  on  to  the  house.  Leland  stood 
stone  still  at  the  window;  Wanda,  catching  sight 
of  him,  threw  him  a  kiss.  Wayne,  with  a  brief  word 
to  Wanda  left  her  under  the  cedars  in  the  yard  and 
came  swiftly  to  the  study,  the  light  buoyancy  of  his 
step  bespeaking  the  exhilaration  that  danced  through 
his  blood.  He  swept  off  his  hat,  put  out  his  hand 
eagerly  as  he  came  into  the  room,  his  eyes  filled  with 
the  brightness  of  a  supreme  happiness. 

"  I  am  glad  that  I  found  you  in,"  he  began  im 
petuously.  "  I  don't  know  how  I  could  have 
waited  .  .  .  What's  the  matter,  Mr.  Leland?'* 

For  Martin  Leland,  directing  at  him  a  piercing 
glance  whose  meaning  was  unmistakable,  did  not 
unclasp  the  hands  behind  his  back. 

'  You  had  something  to  say  to  me,"  Leland  re 
minded  him  briefly.  "  What  is  it?  " 

Shandon  met  his  stare  with  silent  surprise. 
Then,  forcing  himself  to  speak  quietly,  as  though 
the  insult  of  Leland's  attitude  had  been  unnoticed, 
he  said: 


no  THE  SHORT  CUT 

"  I  wanted  to  tell  you  that  I  love  Wanda,  that 
some  day  I  hope  to  make  her  my  wife." 

"  What  I  "  shouted  Leland  incredulously.  "  You 
—  you  want  to  marry  my  daughter!  You!" 

"  Yes,"  said  Wayne  steadily.     "  I." 

Martin's  scornful  laugh,  forced  and  hard,  drove 
the  happiness  from  Shandon's  eyes  and  a  quick  hot 
flush  into  his  cheeks. 

"  I  knew  that  you  didn't  like  me,"  he  said  sharply. 
"  But  I  didn't  know  — " 

"  That  I  have  no  feeling  but  utter  loathing  for 
you,"  Leland  cut  in  coldly.  "  That  I'd  kill  you  like 
a  dog  before  I'd  allow  you  to  disgrace  my  name,  to 
wreck  my  daughter's  life.  Are  you  crazy  or 
drunk?" 

"  I  don't  understand  you,"  replied  Shandon 
bluntly. 

"  Then  I'll  explain  so  that  you  will  have  no  dif 
ficulty  in  understanding."  Leland's  voice,  lifted  a 
little,  was  hard  and  bitter.  "  I  don't  desire  the 
continuance  of  your  acquaintance.  I  don't  want 
ever  to  see  you  again  if  it  can  be  helped.  I  don't 
want  you  to  come  to  my  home,  to  speak  to  my  wife 
or  my  daughter.  I  don't  want  your  presence  sully 
ing  the  air  they  breathe.  I  don't  want  to  have  any 
dealings  whatever  with  you.  Have  I  explained?" 
he  concluded  with  cutting  sharpness. 

"  Everything  and  nothing!"  Shandon  returned, 
the  flush  seeping  out  of  his  face,  leaving  it  grey. 
"What  has  happened?  Why  do  you  say  such 


"A  GAME  OF  BLUFF!"  in 

things  to  me?  Good  God,  man,  what  have  I 
done?" 

For  a  moment  Martin  Leland  made  no  reply; 
nor  did  his  steady  gaze  waver  from  the  eyes  now 
as  stern  as  his  own  which  looked  straight  back  at 
him. 

"  I  don't  care  to  discuss  the  thing  with  you,  Shan- 
don.  You  know  as  well  as  I  do  why  I  say  them. 
When  you  pretend  not  to  know  you  are  at  once  a 
liar  and  a  hypocrite." 

"  I  am  not  a  trouble  seeker,  Mr.  Leland."  Shan- 
don's  voice  had  grown  husky  as  he  strove  with  the 
anger  within  him.  "  But  I  think  you  know  that  you 
are  the  first  man  who  has  talked  to  me  like  that  and 
got  away  with  it.  If  I  did  not  know  that  you  are 
a  fair  minded  man,  and  that  there  has  been  some 
hideous  mistake  somewhere,  I'd  not  listen  to  those 
words  even  from  you.  Tell  me  what  you  mean." 

A  contemptuous  smile  broke  the  rigid  line  of  Le- 
land's  set  lips. 

"  Your  theatrical  ranting  won't  get  you  anywhere 
with  me,  Shandon.  It  is  the  thing  to  be  expected. 
I  am  the  master  of  my  own  house  and  it  is  quite 
enough  when  I  say  that  your  presence  is  not  wanted 
here.  If  you  want  more  you  can  supply  it  yourself. 
Idler,  spendthrift,  gambler,  brawler,  I  have  until 
now  tolerated  you.  But  there  are  some  things  that 
no  man  can  tolerate.  You  have  said  that  I  am  fair 
minded;  the  more  reason  I  should  wish  to  be  rid  of 
you." 


ii2  THE  SHORT  CUT 

"  But,"  cried  Shandon  hotly,  "  the  man  accused 
has  a  right  to  know  — " 

"  I  am  not  accusing  you,"  interrupted  Martin 
coldly.  "  I  do  nothing  but  tell  you  that  you  are  not 
the  kind  of  man  I  want  my  womenfolk  to  associate 
with,  not  the  kind  I  want  to  associate  with,  and  that 
I  want  this  to  be  the  last  time  you  set  foot  on  my 
property.  If  you  are  not  absolutely  without  pride 
of  any  sort  you  will  not  make  it  necessary  for  me  to 
have  you  put  off  the  ranch !  " 

"  And  you  won't  tell  me  — " 

"  So  far  as  I  am  concerned  the  conversation  is 
closed.  And,"  drily,  "  the  door  is  open." 

The  anger  in  Wayne  Shandon's  heart,  unchecked 
at  last,  blazed  in  his  eyes. 

"  I'll  go  now,"  he  said  shortly.  "  I  have  no 
wish  to  enter  a  man's  house  where  I  am  not  wel 
come.  But  what  I  have  said  I  have  meant.  I 
shall  see  Wanda  when  I  can,  and  when  she  will 
come  to  me  as  she  will  some  day,  I  shall  marry 
her." 

"  You  are  a  fool  as  well  as  a  scoundrel,"  shouted 
Leland  as  he  saw  the  other  turn  toward  the  door. 
"  Wanda,  when  she  marries,  will  marry  a  gentle 
man,  and  not  a  cur  and  a  coward !  " 

"Those  are  hard  names,  Mr.  Leland!  " 

"  Not  so  hard  as  another  which  belongs  to  you," 
came  the  vibrant  rejoinder.  "  If  you  dare  speak  to 
her  again  — " 

"  As  I  most  certainly  shall,"  coolly. 


"A  GAME  OF  BLUFF!"  113 

"  By  God !  "  cried  the  old  man,  his  clenched  fist 
raised.  "  You  leave  my  girl  alone  or  — " 

Caught  in  a  sudden  gust  of  rage  such  as  had  not 
half  a  dozen  times  in  his  lifetime  touched  his  blood, 
he  strode  to  his  table,  snatched  open  the  drawer  and 
whipped  out  a  revolver. 

"  Go !  "  he  shouted,  his  face  a  fiery  red.  "  Go 
now,  without  another  word,  or  I'll  shoot  you." 

Wayne  Shandon's  head  was  flung  up  with  the  old 
gesture,  his  eyes  grew  steely  and  steady,  and  his 
answer  was  a  cool  contemptuous  laugh. 

"  You  have  called  me  a  coward,"  he  said.  "  You 
called  me  a  liar."  He  came  back  into  the  room  and 
sat  down  upon  the  edge  of  the  table,  not  three  feet 
from  Martin  Leland.  "  Now,  prove  me  the  cow 
ard  —  or  yourself  the  liar !  " 

It  was  a  challenge  of  sheer  reckless  impudence, 
the  tempting  of  a  man  whose  reason  was  blind  drunk 
with  rage.  He  looked  coolly  into  Leland's  eyes 
ignoring  the  deadly  weapon  in  Leland's  hand. 

"  I  am  going  to  roll  a  cigarette,"  he  said  quietly. 
"  I'll  stay  just  that  long." 

The  fingers  which  brought  out  tobacco  and  papers 
were  unhurried.  He  opened  the  muslin  bag,  poured 
the  tobacco  into  the  trough  of  his  paper,  and  his 
hands  were  steady.  His  eyes  left  Leland's  a  mo 
ment  to  make  sure  that  he  was  not  spilling  any  of 
the  brown  particles;  he  lifted  them  again  as  he 
sealed  his  finished  cigarette  with  the  tip  of  his 
tongue.  He  swept  a  match  along  his  thigh;  then  he 


ii4  THE  SHORT  CUT 

went  out,  closing  the  door  softly,  leaving  a  thin  wisp 
of  smoke  trailing  behind  him. 

Leland,  alone  in  the  study,  put  his  hand  to  his 
forehead.  It  came  away  wet  with  sweat. 

"  A  game  of  bluff  and  the  gambler  wins !  "  he 
muttered  fiercely.  "  And  now  —  God  curse  me  if 
I  spare  him!  " 

His  buoyant  stride  carried  Red  Reckless  swiftly 
down  into  the  yard  where  he  had  left  Wanda.  She 
looked  up  eagerly  as  he  came  swinging  on.  Then 
suddenly  her  heart  stood  still,  chilled  with  the  quick 
fear  of  her  premonition.  The  smile  which  Shandon 
summoned  was  at  once  a  brave  attempt  and  a  pitiful 
failure. 

"  What  is  it,  Wayne  ?  "  asked  Wanda  quickly. 

"  Your  father  has  forbidden  me  the  ranch,"  he 
told  her  bitterly.  "  I  don't  know  exactly  why.  It 
came  out  of  a  clear  sky  so  far  as  I  am  concerned. 
He  does  not  want  me  to  come  here  again;  he  does 
not  want  you  to  see  me  at  all,  anywhere." 

"Wayne!" 

"  He  called  me  an  idler,  a  spendthrift,  a  gambler 
and  a  brawler,"  he  went  on  swiftly.-  "  As  I  sup 
pose  I  have  been. —  There  has  never  been  anything 
to  make  me  care  —  until  to-day !  You  won't  let 
what  he  says  make  any  difference,  Wanda?  " 

She  came  closer  to  him,  her  eyes  brilliant. 

"  I  don't  have  to  answer  that  question,  Wayne," 
she  whispered. 


"A  GAME  OF  BLUFF!"  115 

He  took  her  into  his  arms  and  kissed  the  mouth 
turned  up  to  him,  and  so  left  her.  She  watched  him 
go  down  to  the  stable,  watched  the  tall,  upright  form 
until  Lady  Lightfoot  carried  him  out  of  sight 
through  the  pines.  Then,  her  head  as  erect  as  her 
lover's  had  been,  she  went  slowly  to  the  house. 


CHAPTER  IX 

THE   CONTEMPT  OF   SLEDGE   HUME 

THE  window  shades  in  the  study  were  half 
drawn  so  that  in  the  late  afternoon  the  room 
was  shadowy.  From  the  fireplace  crackling 
flames  cast  wavering  gleams  across  the  polished 
oaken  table  top  and  the  heavy  mission  furniture. 
Leland  had  not  stirred  from  the  chair  into  which  he 
had  sunk  after  Wayne  Shandon's  going.  Shandon 
had  been  gone  an  hour ;  he  had  met  Garth  Conway  at 
the  bridge  and  now  Garth  was  with  Leland. 

There  was  no  longer  in  the  old  man's  eye  or  bear 
ing  a  hint  of  the  battle  which  he  had  fought  all  day. 
He  had  gone  through  the  hours  of  his  inner  struggle 
and  as  it  had  ended  three  months  ago  so  had  it  ended 
to-day.  He  knew  that  he  would  not  open  his  mind 
to  consider  the  question  again.  His  full  piercing 
eyes  were  stern  and  determined.  Purposefully  he 
had  set  his  feet  into  the  path  he  meant  to  follow 
without  swerving.  In  a  moment  of  hesitation  and 
uncertainty  the  supreme  argument  had  come  to  him ; 
if  for  no  other  reason,  he  must  ruin  Shandon  to  save 
his  own  daughter  from  her  folly. 

"  Garth,"  he  said  quietly,  his  deep  voice  retaining 
no  trace  of  the  emotion  which  had  wracked  him  only 

116 


CONTEMPT  OF  SLEDGE  HUME     117 

an  hour  ago,  "  I  am  very  glad  that  you  have  come. 
I  have  been  expecting  you  all  day." 

"  I  met  Wayne,"  Garth  said  hastily,  watching 
Leland  anxiously.  "  He  was  riding  like  the  very 
devil.  I  never  saw  his  face  look  as  it  did  as  he  shot 
by  me.  He  had  been  over  here?  " 

"  Yes.  I  had  a  plain  talk  with  him.  I  made  it 
clear  to  him  that  he  was  not  again  to  set  foot  on  my 
land." 

"You  didn't  tell  him—" 

"  I  told  him  nothing!  The  man  deserves  no  con 
sideration  at  my  hands.  It  is  not  my  affair  to  tell 
him."  He  paused  a  moment,  bending  his  gaze 
thoughtfully  upon  Conway's  troubled  face.  "  You 
have  had  time  to  think.  What  are  you  going  to 
do?" 

Garth  opened  his  lips  to  speak,  hesitated  and 
closed  them  without  a  word.  The  air  of  uneasiness 
which  he  had  brought  with  him  into  the  room  grew 
more  marked.  He  shifted  a  little  in  his  chair. 
Leland,  watching  him  steadily,  waited  for  him  to 
speak. 

"  I  don't  know  what  to  do,"  Conway  blurted  out 
finally.  "  You  were  so  sure  all  the  time  he'd  never 
come  back. —  Now  if  I  don't  tell  him  all  about  the 
mortgage  and  foreclosure  there's  chance  on  top  of 
chance  he'll  find  it  out  himself  before  the  nine 
months  drag  by.  And  then — "  He  flashed  a 
startled  glance  up  at  Leland's  calm  face.  "  He'd 
kill  me!  What  can  I  do?" 


n8  THE  SHORT  CUT 

"  You  can  keep  your  mouth  shut,"  answered  Mar 
tin  tersely.  "  You  still  have  his  power  of  attorney, 
haven't  you?  " 

Garth  nodded,  his  head  down  again,  his  fingers 
nervously  busy  with  his  lip. 

"  Conway,"  Leland  continued  with  quiet  em 
phasis,  his  keen  glance  watching  for  the  effect  of  his 
words,  "  in  sheer  justice  you  have  ten  times  more 
right  to  be  owner  of  the  Bar  L— M  than  that  mad 
fool  has.  You  have  slaved  for  over  a  year  to  make 
it  what  it  is  while  he  has  been  squandering  money 
you  had  to  scrape  to  send  him.  Even  while  Arthur 
was  alive  you  were  the  actual  manager.  And  now 
all  that  you  have  to  do  is  keep  still  and  you  can  have 
the  place  for  a  very  small  fragment  of  what  it  is 
worth.  God  knows  I  wouldn't  put  foot  on  it. 
There  is  nothing  that  the  law  can  touch  you  for;  we 
have  seen  to  that.  Nor  will  you  be  doing  a  dishon 
ourable  thing.  It  is  sheer  justice,  Garth,  that  you 
and  I  will  be  meting  out  to  him." 

Conway's  cheeks  flushed  a  little,  his  eyes  bright 
ened  at  the  thought  of  being  some  day  the  owner 
of  the  Bar  L-M. 

"  But  there's  the  chance  — "  he  began. 

"  You  are  playing  for  big  stakes,"  Leland  re 
minded  him  crisply.  "  Of  course  there  is  a  chance. 
But  you  exaggerate  it.  Play  the  game  through 
and  you  will  be  a  rich  man  before  the  year  is 


out." 


Before  Conway  could  speak  there  came  the  clam- 


CONTEMPT  OF  SLEDGE  HUME     119 

orous  barking  of  dogs  in  the  yard  and  the  noise  of 
a  horse's  shod  hoofs.  In  a  moment  there  was  a 
heavy  booted  stride  up  the  steps  and  along  the  porch, 
followed  by  a  loud  rap  at  the  study  door.  At  Le- 
land's  nod  Garth  sprang  to  his  feet  and  went  quickly 
to  the  door,  flinging  it  open. 

For  a  second  Sledge  Hume's  great  frame  filled 
the  doorway  as  he  paused,  looking  in  sharply,  draw 
ing  at  his  gauntlets.  Then,  brushing  by  Conway, 
he  entered  and  stood  with  his  back  to  the  fireplace, 
still  drawing  off  his  gauntlets,  his  hat  still  low  over 
his  brows. 

"Well?"  he  asked  bluntly. 

Just  the  short  word,  uttered  as  a  command. 
There  would  be  no  wasting  of  words  before  they 
came  straight  to  business.  There  was  about  the 
man,  emanating  apparently  from  his  physical  body 
something  oddly  like  a  materialised  aura,  bespeaking 
an  aggressive  character,  a  strong,  dominant  person 
ality.  Conway,  alone  with  Leland,  was  a  school 
boy  in  the  presence  of  his  master.  Hume,  ignoring 
Garth,  challenged  that  superiority  which  Conway's 
weaker  nature  acknowledged  unconsciously.  The 
look  of  his  eye,  the  very  carriage  of  his  handsome 
head,  invited  opposition,  questioned  an  authority 
other  than  his  own.  A  big,  strong  man  physically 
his  manner  gave  the  impression  that  he  was  a  big, 
strong  man  intellectually. 

Old  Martin  did  not  at  once  speak  but  sat  very 
still  save  for  the  restless  fingers  upon  the  table  top. 


120  THE  SHORT  CUT 

It  was  Conway  who,  after  a  brief  hesitation, 
answered. 

"  We're  going  to  stand  pat  — " 

"  I  wasn't  talking  to  you,  Conway,"  said  Hume 
coolly.  "  As  far  as  I  am  concerned  you  aren't  even 
a  fifth  wheel  in  this  thing  and  you  ought  to  know  it. 
I  want  to  know  what  Leland  has  got  to  say." 

Garth  coloured  angrily  but  made  no  reply  as  he 
turned  questioning  eyes  to  the  older  man. 

"  Very  well,  Mr.  Hume,"  said  Leland  quietly. 
"  Do  you  care  to  sit  down  while  we  thresh  things 
out?" 

"  No,  I'll  stand.     Go  ahead." 

"  To  begin  with,  Wayne  Shandon  is  back." 

"  I  know  he  is  back,"  spat  out  Hume.  "  That's 
why  I'm  here.  What  are  you  going  to  do  now?  " 

"  We  are  going  ahead  just  as  though  he  weren't 
here." 

"  You  think  that  you  can  put  the  thing  across?  " 

"Why  not?" 

"Just  because,"  Hume  shot  back  at,  him,  "it 
doesn't  seem  likely  that  with  the  whole  country 
knowing  about  the  foreclosure  of  the  mortgage  some 
body  isn't  going  to  do  some  talking." 

Leland  shook  his  head. 

"  Let  me  sum  up  the  case  for  you,"  he  said. 
"  Arthur  Shandon,  the  day  before  his  death,  mort 
gaged  the  Bar  L-M  to  me  for  twenty-five  thou 
sand.  When  time  for  foreclosure  came  three 
months  ago  Wayne  Shandon  would  have  been  noti- 


CONTEMPT  OF  SLEDGE  HUME     121 

fied  if  he  had  been  here.  As  it  was  the  notice  went 
to  his  legal  representative,  Garth  Conway.  Con- 
way  allowed  the  Bar  L-M  to  go  under  the  hammer 
and  at  the  sheriff's  sale  Conway  himself  bought  it 
in—" 

"  For  you,"  interjected  Hume. 

'Yes,  for  me.  But  who  knows  that?  People 
who  paid  any  attention  to  the  transaction  came  to 
understand  that  it  had  been  because  of  Wayne  Shan- 
don's  known  shiftlessness  that  the  property  was  al 
lowed  to  be  sold,  they  knew  that  Conway  was  his 
agent,  and  that  Conway  bought  it  in.  There  is  not 
a  man  living  who  knows  anything  about  the  matter 
who  does  not  believe  that  Conway  bought  at  Shan- 
don's  orders  and  with  Shandon's  money;  and  that 
the  Bar  L-M  is  Shandon's  now  and  was  never  in 
any  real  danger  from  me.  Is  it  likely  then,  that  any 
man  who  believes  this  is,  after  this  length  of  time, 
even  going  to  think  to  mention  the  matter  to  Shan- 
don?" 

'  You've  got  the  chance  to  get  by  with  it,"  said 
Hume  slowly.  "  And  it's  a  damned  good  chance." 

u  We  all  know  the  sort  Shandon  is,"  continued 
Leland.  "  I  shall  be  surprised  if  he  doesn't  tire  of 
the  life  here  in  six  weeks,  put  through  a  sale  of  cat 
tle,  take  the  money  and  go  again.  With  him  away 
our  chance  becomes  a  certainty.  In  any  case,  I  am 
going  ahead  with  our  work.  I  have  had  Garth  look 
into  the  title  of  the  Dry  Lands  and  he  finds  that  it 
is  perfect." 


122  THE  SHORT  CUT 

*  Yes.     The  land  is  mine  and  is  clear." 

"  All  we  need  now  is  the  water  and  we  are  going 
to  have  that  in  another  nine  months  when  I  shall 
have  a  clear  deed  to  the  Bar  L-M.  Garth  and  my 
self  have  gone  ahead  as  I  told  you  that  we  would, 
taking  options  on  every  acre  we  could  get  in  Dry 
Valley.  Before  many  days  we  shall  virtually  con 
trol  the  whole  of  the  valley,  just  the  three  of  us. 
Between  us  Garth  and  I  have  expended  upwards  of 
fifty  thousand  dollars  in  the  last  five  weeks  in  options 
and  out-right  purchases." 

"  Let  me  see  the  papers,"  said  Hume  shortly. 

Leland  went  to  the  safe  and  taking  out  a  number 
of  papers,  handed  them  to  Hume. 

u  All  right  as  far  as  it  goes,"  Hume  said  when  at 
length  he  had  finished  his  careful  examination  of  the 
documents  and  had  tossed  them  to  the  table.  "  You 
haven't  got  the  Norfolk  place  nor  the  Ettinger  place. 
What's  the  matter?  They  are  more  important  to 
us  than  all  the  rest  put  together.  Did  they  smell 
a  rat?" 

"  I  don't  know.  I  am  confident  of  closing  with 
Norfolk  in  a  few  days,  although  I  may  have  to  pay 
him  five  dollars  an  acre  more  than  I  offered  any  one 
else.  Ettinger  is  holding  out  for  seventy-five  thou 
sand  dollars,  cash." 

"  Then  he  does  smell  a  rat !  "  Hume's  fist  came 
crashing  down  upon  the  mantelpiece.  "  By  God, 
somebody's  been  talking  too  much !  " 

"  Mr.    Hume,"    Leland    reminded    him    sternly, 


CONTEMPT  OF  SLEDGE  HUME     123 

"  may  I  call  to  your  attention  the  fact  that  nobody 
knows  a  thing  about  this  matter  excepting  yourself, 
Garth  and  me?  I  haven't  so  much  as  told  my 
wife  — " 

"You?"  cried  Hume  hotly.  "Who  said  that 
you  had?  You've  got  brains  enough  to  hold  your 
tongue.  That's  why  I  came  to  you  in  the  first  place. 
But  Conway  here  — " 

He  swung  suddenly  upon  Garth,  his  eyes  flaming, 
his  face  distorted  with  wrath.  Before  either  of  the 
two  men  had  guessed  his  purpose  he  strode  swiftly 
across  the  room,  and  gripping  Conway's  shoulders 
with  his  two  big  hands  jerked  him  to  his  feet. 

u  Conway,"  he  snarled,  his  face  close  to  the 
others,  his  eyes  burning,  his  breath  hot  in  Garth's 
blanched  face,  "  you  queer  this  deal  with  your  in 
fernal  gab  and  I'll—" 

He  broke  off  sharply,  flinging  Conway  backward 
from  him  so  that  the  smaller  man's  body  crashed 
against  the  wall. 

"  Hume!  "  cried  Leland  angrily.  "  I'll  have  no 
quarrelling  in  my  house.  If  you  can't  act  — " 

"  I  haven't  come  here  to-day  for  a  love  feast," 
sneered  Hume,  already  forgetting  Conway  as  he 
whirled  upon  Martin.  "  What  I've  got  to  say  I'll 
say  my  way  whether  you  and  your  cursed  white  rat 
like  it  or  not.  I  say  that  somebody  has  been  talking 
too  damned  much !  That  place  of  Ettinger's  as  it 
is,  without  the  water,  isn't  worth  twenty-five  thou 
sand.  He'd  have  sold  it  for  that  a  month  ago  and 


i24  THE  SHORT  CUT 

glad  of  the  chance  to  unload.  Now  he  holds  out 
for  seventy-five  thousand!  What's  the  answer? 
You've  dragged  Conway  into  this  thing;  I  haven't. 
I  wanted  no  man  in  it  but  you  and  Arthur  Shandon 
and  myself.  You  because  you  had  the  money,  Ar 
thur  Shandon  because  he  had  the  lake  and  the  river. 
I  didn't  want  Conway.  He's  your  pet,  not  mine. 
Now,  muzzle  him  if  you  can." 

Garth's  angry  retort,  the  first  word  he  had  said 
since  Hume  sprang  unexpectedly  upon  him,  was  lost 
in  the  low  rumble  of  Martin  Leland's  heavy  voice. 

u  YouVe  said  what  you  wanted  to  say,  Mr. 
Hume.  We've  heard  it.  We  understand  each 
other.  I  can  vouch  for  Conway's  discretion.  If 
you  are  as  careful  yourself  we  are  all  right.  I'll 
attend  to  both  Ettinger  and  Norfolk.  I  shall  also 
see  that  at  the  end  of  the  nine  months  the  Bar  L— M 
is  mine  and  that  we  have  the  water  for  Dry  Valley." 

Hume  laughed.  Without  again  looking  toward 
Conway  he  stooped,  picked  up  the  gauntlets  he  had 
let  fall,  and  turned  to  thexdoor. 

u  You  are  nobody's  fool,  Leland,"  he  said  pat- 
ronisingly.  "  You  are  taking  a  chance  in  freezing 
Red  Shandon  out  but  the  law  can't  go  after  you. 
And  you  stand  to  win  a  wad  of  money." 

"  Mr.  Hume,"  interposed  Leland  sternly.  "  I 
am  not  taking  over  the  Bar  L-M  because  there  hap 
pens  to  be  money  in  it.  I  am  simply  using  the 
weapon  of  retribution  which  God  has  seen  fit  to  put 
into  my  hands  — " 


CONTEMPT  OF  SLEDGE  HUME     125 

"  Oh,  rot!  "  grunted  Hume  sneeringly.  "  Don't 
come  trying  to  square  your  conscience  with  me.  I 
say,  go  to  it,  if  you  can  get  across  with  it." 

He  jerked  the  door  open  and  then  stopped  sud 
denly  his  hand  still  on  the  knob. 

"  If  you  do  slip  up,"  he  said  bluntly,  "  if  Red 
Shandon  does  hear  about  it  and  gets  busy,  let  me 
know.  If  he  starts  making  trouble  I  can  put  him 
where  he'll  be  out  of  the  way!  " 

The  door  closed  loudly  behind  him. 


CHAPTER  X 

SHANDON'S  GOLDEN  OPPORTUNITY 

WAYNE  SHANDON  had  grown  more 
silent,  more  thoughtful  than  men  had  ever 
known  him.  The  two  things  which  had 
come  to  him,  one  as  unheralded  as  the  other,  the 
gladness  of  a  deep  love,  the  bitterness  which  grew 
out  of  Martin  Leland's  words,  he  kept  to  himself. 
He  rode  far  and  alone,  seeing  very  little  of  the  men 
of  the  Bar  L-M  or  of  Garth,  to  whom  he  still  left 
the  routine  of  the  range,  and  who  made  the  most  of 
small  pretexts  to  keep  up  of  Wayne's  way.  Shan- 
don  wanted  time  to  think  coolly  and  deliberately  for 
the  first  time  in  his  life;  he  wanted  time  to  look  in 
ward  as  well  as  at  what  lay  without,  to  cast  up  the 
balance  of  what  sums  of  good  and  bad  were  in  his 
soul. 

Until  now  he  had  been  quite  content  with  life  as 
he  found  it.  It  had  afforded  him  infinite  pleasure, 
it  bubbled  up  sparklingly  from  the  fountain  of  con 
tented  youth,  there  had  been  no  need  for  him  to 
seek  to  change  its  flashing  current.  Moreover,  he 
had  never  had  an  incentive  to  bestir  himself.  But 
that  incentive  had  come  now,  a  two-pronged  goad; 
he  was  compelled  to  look  to  himself,  to  his  own 
positive  effort,  for  what  came  next. 

126 


SHANDON'S  OPPORTUNITY         127 

Vaguely,  at  first,  he  realised  that  a  man  if  he  be 
a  man,  has  certain  responsibilities.  He  saw  clearly, 
now  that  he  considered  life  seriously,  that  a  man 
might  err  in  dalliance  and  idleness  just  as  he  had 
erred ;  and  he  saw  too  that  a  man  might,  like  Sledge 
Hume,  go  to  the  other  extreme.  A  man  might 
grow  soft  muscled  literally  and  figuratively  in  slotl|- 
ful  carelessness,  or  he  might  grow  hard  until  he  be 
came  a  machine.  He  felt  dimly  that  he  ought  to 
be  doing  something  like  other  men.  He  wanted  his 
life  to  live  freely  as  he  knew  how,  largely  as  he 
sought  to  learn  how.  And  he  wanted  Wanda. 

At  first  he  was  like  a  sea-worthy  ship,  in  a  calm 
with  no  definite  port  in  sight.  But,  in  due  course, 
from  the  one  vital  fact  of  his  love  for  Wanda  other 
facts  materialised.  To  begin  with  he  thought  with 
diminishing  bitterness  of  old  Martin  Leland.  The 
man  was  old,  and  he  loved  his  daughter.  Rumours 
of  a  wild  life  fly  incredibly  high  and  far  and  fast. 
Such  rumours  of  Red  Reckless's  doings  had  come  to 
Leland's  ears,  and  perhaps  it  was  natural  enough 
that  Leland  believed  them.  Shandon  had  always 
known  his  neighbour  as  a  hard  man  but  a  just.  He 
made  up  his  mind  not  to  quarrel  with  him,  but 
instead  to  so  change  the  tenor  of  his  life  that  Mar 
tin  Leland  would  notice  and  would  approve.  If  in 
taking  Wanda  to  her  new  home  he  closed  her  old 
one  to  her  he  would  be  hurting  her. 

He  saw  clearly,  there  being  little  foolish  conceit 
in  the  man's  makeup,  that  he  was  not  worthy.  And 


128  THE  SHORT  CUT 

he  understood,  though  vaguely  at  first,  that  it  must 
be  his  one  object  now  to  become  as  worthy  as  any 
man  could  be  of  her.  And  when  the  fifth  day  came 
and  Ruf  Ettinger  rode  to  the  Bar  L-M  with  excite 
ment  dancing  in  his  eyes  and  his  tongue  clacking, 
Shandon  thought  that  he  saw  a  beginning. 

Ruf  Ettinger,  a  little  dried  up  man  of  forty-five, 
was  crabbed,  cranky,  sour  and  mean.  He  had  the 
eyes,  nose  and  brain  of  a  fox,  while  perhaps  the  rest 
of  him,  heart  and  soul,  came  close  to  being  just  plain 
hog.  He  was  stingy  and  suspicious,  and  people 
were  no  more  in  the  habit  of  speaking  well  of  him 
than  they  were  of  riding  out  of  their  way  to  stop 
at  his  place.  He  was  the  kind  of  man  that  makes 
his  wife  and  children  live  in  a  miserable,  two  roomed 
shanty,  while  he  builds  a  big,  warm,  expensive  barn 
for  his  hay  and  horses.  The  only  time  he  was  ever 
credited  with  a  human  emotion  was  when  his  fav 
ourite  dog  died;  he  cried  over  it  and  then  got  drunk, 
careless  of  cost. 

Shandon  was  surprised  when  he  saw  Ettinger  ride 
up.  He  was  more  surprised  at  Ettinger's  manner 
when  he  insisted  on  Shandon  saddling  and  riding 
with  him  where  there  "  wouldn't  be  no  chance  of 
bein'  overheard." 

Once  clear  of  the  house  and  outbuildings  and  in 
the  valley  where  his  shrewd  little  eyes  made  sure 
that  no  other  ears  than  Shandon's  would  overhear, 
Ettinger  plunged  eagerly  into  his  errand. 

In  brief  it  was  this :  Ettinger  owned  five  hundred 


SHANDON'S  OPPORTUNITY         129 

acres  of  valley  land,  down  in  Dry  Valley,  some 
thirty  miles  from  the  Bar  L-M  bunk  house.  Shan- 
don  knew  the  place  well.  Ettinger  had,  also,  some 
money  in  the  bank.  How  much  it  was  not  his  cau 
tious  way  to  say  until  he  was  obliged  to.  How 
much  would  Shandon  say  his  ranch  was  worth? 
Shandon  did  not  know,  but  hazarded  the  guess  that 
it  might  bring  twenty-five  dollars  an  acre.  He  did 
not  consider  it  worth  more  because  it  was  good  graz 
ing  land  only  for  part  of  the  year,  and  like  the  rest  of 
the  valley  there  was  scant  water  on  it  through  the 
summer.  Twelve  thousand  five  hundred  dollars? 

Ettinger  cackled;  he  could  sell  it  to-morrow  for 
seventy-five  thousand! 

Shandon  began  to  feel  the  first  dim  stirrings  of 
interest.  Ettinger's  excitement  was  too  genuine  not 
to  awaken  certain  glimmerings  of  interest.  Water, 
that  was  the  thing!  Now,  if  there  were  water, 
plenty  of  water,  in  Dry  Valley;  if  a  man  could  flood 
his  land  from  brimming  ditches  then  what  would 
happen?  The  soil  was  deep  and  rich;  it  had  been 
slipping  down  from  the  mountains  for  centuries;  it 
had  never  been  worn  out  by  farming.  Twenty-five 
dollars  an  acre?  What  were  the  other  California 
valley  lands  worth  where  there  was  the  same  soil, 
no  better  climate  and  water  galore?  Napa  Valley, 
Santa  Clara  Valley,  Sacramento  Valley?  A  hun 
dred  dollars  an  acre  was  dirt  cheap ;  a  man  thought 
nothing  of  paying  for  a  small  ranch  five  hundred  dol 
lars  an  acre ! 


130  THE  SHORT  CUT 

That  was  true  enough,  and  Shandon  knew  it. 
But  there  was  that  tremendous  IF. 

"It's  all  right,  Ettinger.  All  but  the  water! 
And  since  the  water  is  the  whole  thing,  and  I  don't 
see  where  you're  going  to  get  it  — " 

"  Wait  a  minute!  "  cried  Ettinger,  his  eager  hand 
clutching  at  Shandon's  arm.  "  I  tell  you  I'd  a  sold 
that  ranch  for  twenty-five  dollars  an  acre  six  months 
ago  an'  been  damn'  glad  to  git  out  at  that.  An' 
right  now  I  could  sell  for  a  hundred  an'  fifty  the 
acre !  An'  I'm  damned  if  I  do  it !  My  nose  smells 
somethin'  when  a  man  wants  that  place  that  bad, 
an'  I  git  busy  follerin'  the  smell.  If  I  ever  sell  at 
less  than  two  hundred  dollars  I'm  gone  crazy." 

His  excitement  growing  as  the  vision  of  much 
gold  became  clearer,  he  ran  on  with  hasty  ex 
planations.  He  had  five  hundred  acres;  Norfolk 
had  close  to  a  thousand  and  he  had  made  Norfolk 
begin  to  think  for  the  first  time  in  his  life.  He  him 
self  had  a  little  money  in  the  bank  and  Norfolk  had 
some.  There  were  other  men,  little  ranchers,  whom 
they  could  whip  into  line.  And  Wayne  Shandon  had 
the  'water! 

Shandon  looked  at  him  in  amazement,  thinking 
at  first  that  the  man  was  a  little  mad.  But  Etting- 
er's  shrewd  eyes  were  sane  enough. 

"  We  go  right  up  to  your  lake,"  he  cried  shrilly. 
"  We  git  busy  with  some  engineers  an'  pick  an' 
shovel  men.  We  blow  the  side  of  a  hill  all  to  hell 
an'  what  happens  ?  The  water  just  comes  a  bulgin' 


SHANDON'S  OPPORTUNITY         131 

down  into  Dry  Creek,  an'  all  we  got  to  do  down  in 
the  valley,  twenty,  thirty  miles  away,  is  dig  ditches 
an'  watch  our  land  turn  into  a  gold  mine !  " 

In  a  flash  Shandon  saw  the  utter  simplicity  of  the 
whole  scheme.  Whereas  now  the  river  from 
Laughter  Lake  shot  down  the  mountains  through 
its  rocky  gorge,  watering  his  own  land  and  running 
through  little  narrow,  rocky  valleys  to  the  lower 
slopes,  it  might  here  near  the  head  be  deflected  so 
that  it  sped  at  first  through  the  canon  of  the  upper 
Dry  Creek,  and  following'  a  natural  course  be 
brought  with  little  expense  to  Dry  Valley.  Etting- 
er's  proposition  was  no  fanciful  dream;  it  was  hard, 
unvarnished  fact.  And,  as  so  often  happens  when  a 
man  sees  a  radiant  possibility,  he  wondered  that  he 
had  not  seen  it  for  himself  long  ago. 

Here  was  the  golden  opportunity  his  soul,  in  a 
mist,  had  yearned  for !  He  shot  out  his  hand  grip 
ping  Ruf  Ettinger's  until  the  little  man  squirmed. 
But  even  the  pain  of  nearly  crushed  fingers  did  not 
drive  the  grin  from  Ettinger's  face. 

"  You're  on,"  he  cried  exultantly.  "  Shandon, 
we'll  frame  a  deal  that'll  make  millionaires  out  of 


us." 


"  And  man's  work!"  was  the  thought  stirring 
Shandon's  heart  and  brightening  his  eyes. 

They  rode  on,  as  Ettinger  had  planned  from  the 
beginning,  and  covered  the  two  miles  to  Laughter 
Lake  in  a  few  minutes.  They  rode  up  the  shoulder 
of  the  ridge  to  the  level  of  the  lake;  and  there  Ruf 


132  THE  SHORT  CUT 

Ettinger's  eager  finger  pointed  out  where  the  work 
was  to  be  done. 

It  was  work  which  Nature  might  have  planned 
when  the  mountains  were  carved,  the  lake  set  in  its 
deep  bowl.  Fifteen  feet  from  this  end  of  the  lake 
the  water  swept  into  a  narrow  channel,  a  ridge  run 
ning  down  from  each  side.  Here  was  the  spot  to 
deflect  the  waters  before  they  sped  on  down  over 
the  steep  fall.  Upon  the  south  side  there  was  a 
jagged  cut  in  the  saw-toothed  cliff  line.  Even  now 
the  lowest  part  of  that  cut,  when  once  the  free  soil 
was  scooped  out,  was  not  ten  feet  above  the  level 
of  the  water. 

"  I  rode  up  here  purt'  near  a  week  ago,"  said  Et- 
tinger.  "  I  looked  this  over  an'  rode  back  all  the 
way  down  Dry  Creek.  It's  dead  easy,  Shandon." 

Already  Ettinger  visualised  the  cut  deepened  and 
widened  here  with  flood  gates  to  control  the  current. 
He  spurred  his  horse  up  the  bank  as  far  as  he  could 
force  the  animal,  then  got  down  and  scrambled  on, 
gesticulating  and  talking  swiftly.  Shandon  fol 
lowed  him.  In  a  little  they  came  to  a  point  from 
which  they  could  look  back  upon  the  lake,  and 
forward  to  the  windings  of  the  canon  through  which 
Dry  Creek  ran  in  winter  and  spring. 

"  It  can  be  done,"  muttered  Shandon  slowly. 
"  It  can  be  done,  Ettinger.  I  don't  know  what  it 
will  cost,  five  thousand  or  ten  or  twenty;  but  I  do 
know  that  those  lands  down  in  Dry  Valley  are  going 
to  jump  over  the  moon." 


SHANDON'S  OPPORTUNITY         133 

Ettinger  made  little  clucking  sounds  with  his 
mouth,  his  way  of  expressing  joy  unbounded. 

"  An'  you  don't  see  it  all  yet,"  he  chuckled. 
"  Lord,  I've  been  layin'  awake  nights  figgerin'  on 
it.  We'll  bond  everything  that's  loose  in  the  valley. 
I've  got  Norfolk  settin'  tight  and  we'll  round  up  a 
lot  of  the  little  fellers.  It's  sort  of  late,  maybe,  but 
them  other  fellers  ain't  got  everything  sewed  up 
by  a  jugful." 

"What  other  fellows?"  asked  Shandon,  mysti 
fied. 

Then  Ettinger,  in  his  rare  good  humour  loosened 
his  tongue  until  it  poured  out  everything  there  was 
in  his  seething  brain.  He  told  of  the  scheme  of 
Martin  Leland  and  Sledge  Hume,  for  Garth  Con- 
way  had  dropped  an  incautious  word  and  the  shrewd 
brain  of  Ettinger  had  worked  out  the  puzzle.  He 
told  how  the  three  men  were  trying  to  do  this  very 
thing,  how  they  had  planned  on  getting  the  water 
themselves,  how  Martin  Leland  had  tied  up  thou 
sands  in  options  and  purchases,  how  Ettinger  had 
been  one  too  many  for  them  and  had  beat  them  to 
Shandon.  He  chuckled  over  everything,  but  most 
of  all  over  the  fact  that  Martin  Leland  had  tried  to 
buy  him  out.  Old  Leland  was  the  keenest  business 
man  in  the  county,  was  he?  Well,  Ettinger  had 
fooled  him!  Ettinger  had  blinded  him  with  a 
promise  to  sell  next  week  for  seventy-five  thousand. 
By  that  time,  when  Leland  came  to  him  — 

"What's   all  this?"   frowned  Shandon.     "You 


134  THE  SHORT  CUT 

say  that  Leland,  Conway  and  Hume  are  already  at 
work,  planning  to  put  water  from  the  Bar  L— M  into 
Dry  Valley  ?" 

"Already?"  cried  Ettinger.  "They  been 
clawin'  at  the  job  over  a  year  now.  The  Lord 
knows  what  makes  'em  so  slow;  think  nobody  else 
in  the  world  can  see  straight,  or  shy  on  the  money 
end,  maybe.  Anyhow  they've  gone  to  it  tooth  and 
toe  nail;  they've  sunk  thousands  into  it,  thousands 
I  tell  you!  An'  now,  you  an'  me,  Shandon,  can 
make  the  bunch  of  'em  eat  out  of  our  hands!  They 
can't  do  nothin'  without  your  water;  that's  where 
we  got  'em." 

Wayne  Shandon's  eyes  grew  bright  with  a  vision, 
the  muscles  of  his  jaw  hardened.  In  sober  truth  his 
opportunity  had  come  to  him.  Hume,  a  man  he 
hated,  Leland,  a  man  who  had  called  him  laggard, 
spendthrift,  scoundrel,  had  put  many  thousands  of 
dollars  into  a  project  which  he  could  smash  into 
pieces.  Ettinger  had  said  it:  the  two  of  them  could 
make  Leland  and  Hume  eat  out  of  their  hands! 
They  could  get  Norfolk  and  the  little  fellows;  they 
could  tear  out  the  side  of  the  ridge,  release  what 
waters  they  chose,  make  their  ditches,  and  by  im 
proving  only  their  own  property  make  Leland's  and 
Hume's  holdings  worth  nothing.  Leland  had 
started  it;  Leland's  unreasonable  censure  had  been 
a  challenge.  Here  was  his  answer! 

It  was  business,  straight  business.  Had  Leland 
and  Hume  been  his  friends  it  would  have  been  dif- 


SHANDON'S  OPPORTUNITY         135 

ferent.  But  they  deserved  no  consideration  from 
him.  It  was  his  water;  he  had  the  right  to  dispose 
of  it  as  he  saw  fit.  He  would  be  treating  Leland 
as  fairly  as  he  had  been  treated.  Why  had  they  not 
come  to  him  in  the  first  place?  Why  had  they  not 
offered  him  the  opportunity  to  get  in  on  the  ground 
floor  with  them?  He  would  have  given  them  the 
water  then,  glad  to  see  Wanda's  father  prospering. 
But  they  were  holding  out,  they  were  waiting  for 
something,  they  had  made  sure  of  his  consent  to  let 
them  have  what  they  wanted.  Why?  When  they 
had  everything  cornered  they  would  offer  him  a 
small  sum,  they  would  believe  him  fool  enough  to 
leap  at  it,  mouth  open,  like  a  fish.  Even  Garth 
Conway,  his  own  cousin,  had  not  told  him!  What 
consideration  did  Conway  deserve? 

"  By  Heaven !  "  cried  Shandon. 

And  then  he  fell  suddenly  silent. 

;<  We  got  to  git  busy  in  a  hurry,  Shandon,"  Et- 
tinger  ran  on  swiftly.  "  When  old  Sure-Thing  Le 
land  comes  to  me  to  close  the  deal  I  want  to  laugh 
at  him." 

Slowly  the  light  died  out  of  Shandon's  eyes. 
Was  this,  after  all,  the  opportunity  for  which  he 
had  yearned?  He  grew  uncertain,  a  little  troubled. 
An  opportunity  for  what?  For  becoming  worthy 
of  Wanda,  for  being  a  man,  square  and  just,  a  man 
who  must  make  a  new  name  for  himself,  a  name 
which  would  never  bring  discredit  to  her  when  she 
became  Wanda  Shandon?  In  trying  to  ruin  Sledge 


136  THE  SHORT  CUT 

Hume  for  the  sordid  motives  of  hatred  and  gain, 
in  trying  to  strike  back  at  Wanda's  father  in  venge 
ful  bitterness,  would  he  be  doing  a  thing  of  which 
later  he  would  be  proud  to  have  her  know?  Was 
he  proving  his  manhood  by  accepting  for  his  first 
business  partner  a  man  like  Ettinger,  who  laughed 
over  his  feat  of  tricking  another  man  by  a  lie  ?  Was 
he  not  seeking  to  blind  himself  to  the  right  and  the 
wrong  of  it?  This  was  the  sort  of  thing  that  Sledge 
Hume  would  do;  should  Wayne  Shandon  do  it? 
Was  his  first  venture  after  the  priceless  gift  of 
Wanda's  love  to  him,  to  be  a  thing  like  this?  Had 
this  been  the  opportunity  he  had  yearned  for,  to 
grasp  gold  full  handed,  to  wreak  vengeance,  to 
retaliate  against  unfair  treatment  by  striking  back 
treacherously?  Martin  Leland  had  been  unjust, 
yes.  But  had  there  not  been  strong  human  reasons 
for  that  injustice?  Had  not  his  own  wild  living 
been  cause  enough?  Was  he,  from  the  sharp  words 
of  an  old  man  who  was  jealous  in  his  love  for  his 
daughter,  to  draw  an  excuse  to  strike  at  his  own 
cousin  and  Wanda's  father? 

"  Ettinger,"  he  said  quietly.  "  I  can't  do  it. 
You  had  better  keep  your  promise  to  Leland." 

Ettinger's  jaw  dropped,  his  brows  puckered  in 
astonishment. 

"  What's  the  matter  with  you?"  he  demanded 
sharply.  "  Can't  you  see  the  play?  We  got  the 
chance  to  git  the  water  on  the  land  and  make  them 
fellers  pay  for  it  or  sell  to  us  at  our  own  figger,  ain't 


SHANDON'S  OPPORTUNITY         137 

we?  Why,  it's  as  good  as  gold,  man!  If  you  don't 
see  enough  in  it  as  it  stands  you  are  in  a  place  where 
you  can  hold  'em  up  for  a  bonus  to  boot." 

Shandon  turned  away,  Ettinger's  point  of  view 
suddenly  disgusting  him.  His  golden  opportunity 
had  crumbled  into  dust  and  ashes.  And  although 
the  little  man  by  his  side  waxed  voluble  in  alter 
nating  rage  and  supplication,  Wayne  Shandon's  final 
word  was  a  positive, 

"No!" 


CHAPTER  XI 

WANDA'S  DISCOVERY 

A  SUPREME   happiness   had   filled   Wanda 
Leland's  heart  for  a  few  golden  hours,  so 
thoroughly  permeating  every  fibre  of  her 
emotional  being  that  when  sorrow  came  afterward 
it  could  not  entirely  drive  out  the  whispering  glad 
ness. 

Never  had  the  forest  land  seemed  so  big,  so  vast 
and  still  as  during  the  slow  days  which  followed. 
She  went  to  it  for  the  comfort  she  could  not  bring 
herself  to  ask  of  her  mother  just  yet,  and  it  mothered 
her,  crooned  and  whispered  and  sang  to  her. 
Through  the  dew  filled  mornings  she  wandered 
silently;  rarely  did  she  return  to  the  house  until  the 
sun  was  low  in  the  west.  Never  had  this  world  she 
loved  seemed  so  vitally  close  to  her,  so  big  in  a  new 
sense,  so  eloquently  an  expression  of  the  divine 
eternal.  Her  heart  swelled  and  the  talk  of  the  pine 
tops  entered  it. 

They  were  sad,  glad  days.  Gladness  sang  in 
her  heart  when  in  the  sun-flooded  mornings  she 
rode  out  alone,  and  perhaps  her  devious  way 
brought  her  to  the  spot  where  Reef  Reckless  had 
swept  her  up  into  his  arms  for  the  first  time,  when 
his  kiss  had  brought  love  into  full  blossom  in  her 

138 


WANDA'S  DISCOVERY  139 

breast.  Sadness  brought  its  shadow  and  listlessness 
when  day  after  day  passed  and  she  did  not  see  him 
again,  when  the  eager  hope  of  the  morning  that  he 
too  would  ride  to  that  spot  to  meet  her  died  down 
in  the  afternoon's  invariable  disappointment.  Glad 
ness  when  she  thought  of  him,  just  of  him;  sadness 
when  she  thought  of  her  father's  stern  face. 

Red  Reckless  had  made  no  attempt  to  see  her,  or 
to  communicate  with  her.  Even  while  she  sought 
to  find  excuses  for  him,  that  hurt  her  more 
than  her  loyalty  would  let  her  whisper  to  herself. 
He  would  come  soon.  He  would  know  where  to 
find  her,  know  that  her  woman's  heart  was  taking 
her  to  the  spot  where  that  heart  had  really  become 
a  woman's.  He  was  thinking  of  her  now  as  she 
thought  of  him.  Her  heart  heard  his  heart  talking 
to  it  across  the  forests  and  streams. 

A  woman's  heart  trusted  him,  but  a  maiden's 
pride  permitted  no  question  when  Garth  rode  over 
as  he  did  twice  during  the  following  week.  When 
Garth  remarked  casually  that  his  cousin  was  the 
same  old  chap  he'd  always  been,  and  that  he  seemed 
to  have  nothing  in  his  rollicking  brain  more  serious 
than  the  breaking  of  a  wild  devil  of  a  colt  and  a 
horse  race  which  he  had  set  his  heart  upon,  Wanda 
bent  her  head  a  little  over  her  book  and  gave  no 
other  sign  of  having  heard  the  statement  elicited  by 
her  mother's  question.  But  the  news  hurt,  too,  just 
a  little.  There  was  a  quick  sting  that  came  and 
was  gone  as  her  love  for  him  surged  up  again,  and 


140  THE  SHORT  CUT 

it  was  the  same  sort  of  sting,  only  stronger,  that  she 
had  felt  as  a  little  girl  when  she  thought  of  him  as 
happy  in  his  boyish  pursuits  with  any  one  but  her. 
It  did  not  matter  now  whether  it  was  Little  Saxon 
or  Big  Bill.  She  told  herself  in  her  own  little  room 
that  she  was  a  jealous  cat.  But  — 

"  Oh,  dear  God,  how  I  love  you,  Wayne !  " 

Then,  when  the  days  passed  and  she  did  not  hear 
from  him,  there  came  for  the  first  time  a  quick 
fear  which  was  the  first  ally  of  that  twinge  of 
jealousy.  The  fifth  day  came,  the  day  on  which  he 
was  riding  to  Laughter  Lake  with  Ruf  Ettinger,  and 
she  could  not  know  that  his  every  thought  was  of 
her.  She  only  felt  that,  had  she  been  the  man,  she 
would  not  have  stayed  away.  And  there  came  the 
question  and  the  fear, 

"  Does  he  love  me  as  I  love  him?  " 

The  old,  lovers'  question  ever  since  Aucassin  and 
Nicolette;  the  matter  for  long  debate  and  reiterated 
argument:  "  It  may  not  be  that  thou  shouldst  love 
me  even  as  I  love  thee !  "  She  found  herself  blush 
ing  hotly  as  she  rode  alone  through  the  forest  at 
the  thought  that  she  was  again  going  to  meet  him, 
and  that  he  did  not  come  to  meet  her.  She  felt  sud 
denly  ashamed  and  angry  both  with  him  and  with 
herself.  Was  she,  to  him,  like  a  ripe  apple  that  had 
dropped  into  his  hand  at  the  touch?  Did  he  think 
of  her  — ? 

Her  face  crimson  she  reined  the  startled  Gypsy 
around  with  a  savage  jerk,  turned  her  back  squarely 


WANDA'S  DISCOVERY  141 

upon  the  Bar  L-M,  and  without  a  look  behind  her 
rode  swiftly  in  the  opposite  direction.  She  rode 
for  an  hour,  not  turning  once,  although  many  a  time 
her  heart  fluttered  wildly  and  then  grew  painfully 
still  at  some  slight  noise  which  to  her  yearning  ears 
sounded  like  the  thud  of  a  horse's  hoofs  behind  her. 

To-day  she  crossed  the  narrow  valley  toward  the 
cliffs  rising  like  a  wall  upon  the  far  side  of  Echo 
Creek.  Stubbornly  she  shut  her  mind  from  its  daily 
wanderings;  her  camera,  that  she  had  not  used  for  a 
week,  was  going  to  work  for  her  to-day.  The  birds 
that  had  come  trooping  back  from  wintering  in  the 
south  —  robins  and  blue  birds,  blue  jays  and  wood 
peckers,  larks  and  yellow  hammers  —  made  merry 
din  in  the  morning  air.  Shep,  running  on  ahead 
as  usual,  disturbed  half  a  dozen  grouse  from  the 
underbrush  in  a  little  canon,  and  the  muffled  roll  of 
their  whirring  wings  threw  Shep  into  brief  con 
sternation  and  prolonged  subsequent  joy.  She  saw 
the  bob  and  flash  of  a  rabbit's  tail,  noticed  again  and 
again  the  lean,  muscular  body  of  a  tree  squirrel, 
heard  upon  a  wooded  slope  the  snapping  and  crash 
ing  of  brush  that  told  of  the  leaping  flight  of  a  deer. 
The  woods  were  alive  with  animal  folk,  her 
"  friends  "  called  to  her  from  every  tree  and  tiny 
valley,  they  peeped  out  at  her  from  burrows  and 
hollow  trees. 

u  We  are  going  to  quit  being  a  little  fool,"  she 
told  Gypsy  with  tremulous  emphasis.  "  And  we  are 
going  to  get  a  real  picture  to-day." 


142  THE  SHORT  CUT 

A  day  or  so  before  she  had  heard  with  scant  at 
tention  and  no  subsequent  interest  something  which 
in  the  old  careless,  love  free  days  sooner  would  have 
sent  her  riding  this  way  in  haste.  One  of  her 
father's  men,  Charley  or  Jim,  had  found  a  dead  cow 
under  the  cliffs  and  had  seen  signs  of  bear.  He  had 
returned  to  the  spot  later  and  had  killed  the  animal, 
a  she  bear,  and  had  seen  one  of  her  cubs  making 
its  swift,  awkward  way  into  the  brush.  Recol 
lecting  the  story,  and  because  to-day  she  yearned 
feverishly  for  something  to  do,  Wanda  turned 
Gypsy  toward  the  cliffs,  thinking  how  she  should 
like,  if  her  fortune  were  very  great,  to  be  able  to 
show  Wayne  Shandon  when  he  did  come  to  her,  the 
picture  of  a  bear  cub  playing  in  the  woods. 

"  I've  had  so  much  fun  hunting  for  him !  "  she 
would  say  then.  And  Wayne  would  never  know 
how  unmaidenly  she  had  been. 

Before  she  had  come  within  a  thousand  yards  of 
the  place  where  the  carcass  of  the  cow  was  lying  she 
slipped  from  the  saddle  and  picketed  Gypsy.  Her 
lunch  she  left  tied  to  the  saddle  strings ;  camera  and 
field  glasses  went  with  her. 

Already,  in  the  fast  advancing  summertime,  she 
had  donned  her  hunting  costume.  The  soft  green 
of  blouse  and  short  skirt,  of  cap  and  stockings, 
blended  with  the  many  tints  of  green  of  the  copses 
and  groves  and  meadows  through  which  she  went 
swiftly  and  silently.  She  slipped  from  tree  to  tree, 
making  no  more  sound  than  the  chipmunk  scamper- 


WANDA'S  DISCOVERY  143 

ing  almost  from  under  her  feet.  Her  eyes  bright 
ened,  the  colour  warmed  in  her  cheek,  her  heart 
grew  eager.  For,  sure  enough,  fortune  was  good 
to  her;  there  were  two  little  bear  cubs,  round  and 
fat  and  playful,  rumpling  each  other  where  they 
rolled  in  the  sunlight  in  a  small  grassy  open  space. 

They  were  a  hundred  yards  away  when  she  saw 
them,  too  far  for  a  picture;  but  as  soon  as  her  eyes 
fell  upon  them  she  vowed  that  she  must  have  a  pic 
ture.  There  was  little  breeze  this  morning  in  the 
quiet  woods,  but  that  little  blew  from  where  she  stood 
straight  toward  the  spot  where  the  cubs  were  frol- 
licking.  She  must  circle,  come  out  down  yonder 
behind  a  pile  of  rocks,  slip  behind  the  great  cedar 
right  at  the  base  of  the  cliffs,  and  edge  on  from  there 
on  her  hands  and  knees. 

But  she  paused  a  moment,  fascinated,  watching 
them.  They  were  sitting  up,  their  small  brown 
heads  shaking  from  side  to  side,  their  sharp  eyes 
watching  each  other,  their  little  red  tongues  lolling. 
They  were  such  baby  things,  their  awkward  bodies 
so  like  the  little  bodies  of  babies  just  taking  the  first 
faltering  step,  that  she  wanted  to  rush  at  them  and 
pick  them  up  and  hug  them. 

There  was  the  angry  snarl  of  a  rifle,  sudden  and 
sharp  and  evil,  and  one  of  the  little  brown  bears 
made  an  inarticulate  whining  moan  and  its  playful 
spirit  ran  out  in  red  to  dye  the  grass.  Its  brother 
fell  over  backwards  in  its  fright;  there  came  a  sec 
ond  shot,  the  whining  of  a  bullet  glancing  from  a 


i44  THE  SHORT  CUT 

rock,  and  the  cub  plunged  into  the  brush.  She 
saw  it  a  moment,  lost  it,  saw  it  once  more  run 
ning  as  only  the  frightened  wild  things  can  run  as 
it  sped  down  into  a  little  hollow  which  hid  it  from 
the  hunter  and  thus  saved  its  life,  and  then  she  dis 
cerned  it  climbing  wildly,  clawing  its  terrified  way 
up  the  great  cedar  against  the  cliffs.  When  no 
third  shot  came  she  knew  that  the  hunter  had  not 
seen  it  and  then,  with  an  angry  fire  in  her  eyes,  she 
turned  to  learn  who  he  might  be.  Approaching 
her  from  the  edge  of  the  grove,  a  complacent  smile 
upon  his  face,  his  rifle  under  his  arm,  was  Sledge 
Hume. 

"  Oh !  "  she  cried  when  he  had  come  close,  think 
ing  that  he  must  have  seen  her.  "  Why  did  you  do 
that?  It  was  like  murder!  " 

He  stopped  dead  in  his  tracks,  and  then  swung 
toward  her.  He  was  so  close  that  she  saw  a  quick, 
startled  look  leap  up  in  his  eyes. 

"  Murder  ?"  he  said  sharply.  "What  do  you 
mean?  " 

He  had  not  lifted  his  hat,  it  was  not  Sledge 
Hume's  way  to  trouble  himself  with  the  small  civ 
ilities.  He  came  on  again  until  he  stood  quite  close 
to  her,  staring  coolly  into  her  flushed  face. 

"  They  were  playing  just  like  babies !  "  she  cried 
breathlessly.  "  Why  did  you  kill  it?  " 

He  laughed. 

"  Hardly  for  its  skin,  since  I  suppose  it  isn't  worth 
much,"  he  answered  carelessly.  "  Hardly  for  its 


WANDA'S  DISCOVERY  145 

meat  as  I'm  not  going  to  trouble  with  it.  Why,  I 
suppose  just  for  fun  then.  Because,"  his  tone  and 
eyes  touched  with  a  hint  of  contempt  for  what  to  him 
was  a  woman's  squemishness,  "  because  I  wanted 


to." 


Her  eyes  flashed  her  growing  anger  back  at  him. 

"  It  was  so  unnecessary,"  she  said  bitterly. 
"  They  were  playing  so  prettily  and  happily." 

"  I  watched  them  for  ten  minutes  before  I  shot," 
he  said.  "  Their  play  was  interesting,  I'll  admit. 
But  they  were  bears,  just  the  same.  They'd  grow 
up  some  day  and  I  wonder  if  they'd  take  mercy  then 
on  a  pretty  little  baby  calf  if  they  came  upon  it  play 
ing?  Your  father'd  thank  me,  my  tender  hearted 
Miss." 

She  bit  her  lip  and  turned  away  from  him.  He 
watched  her  a  moment,  then  called, 

"  Are  you  riding  back  to  the  house?  My  horse 
is  right  back  there  and  I'll  ride  with  you." 

"  No,"  she  answered  quietly.  "  I'm  not  going 
back  just  yet." 

She  walked  on  to  where  the  dead  cub  lay  —  stood 
looking  down  on  it  a  moment  and  then  moved  on. 
Hume  watched  her  while  he  filled  his  pipe  and 
lighted  it,  and  went  in  turn  to  look  at  his  game.  He 
turned  the  little  beast  over  with  his  foot,  noted  with 
satisfaction  the  hole  which  the  bullet  had  torn 
through  the  soft  body,  and  then  strolled  toward  his 
horse.  Wanda  saw  him  ride  away  in  the  direction 
of  her  home,  smoking  his  pipe. 


146  THE  SHORT  CUT 

"  All  men  like  to  hunt,  to  kill  things/*  she  mused. 
"  Are  they  as  cruel  about  it  as  he  is  ?  Would 
Wayne  have  watched  the  little  things  playing  for  ten 
minutes  and  then,  when  he  tired  of  it,  shot  them  in 
the  midst  of  their  play?  " 

Not  until  Sledge  Hume  had  topped  a  gentle  rise 
and  dropped  down  and  out  of  sight  upon  the  farther 
side,  did  the  girl  turn  quickly  to  the  great  cedar  up 
which  she  had  seen  the  escaping  cub  scramble.  She 
was  certain  that  he  had  not  come  down.  When  at 
first  she  did  not  see  him  she  circled  the  tree  slowly, 
expecting  from  each  new  angle  to  catch  a  glimpse 
of  the  roly-poly  brown  body.  And  when,  after 
fifteen  minutes  peering  upward  through  the  widely 
flung,  horizontal  branches,  she  saw  him,  a  swift  in 
spiration  came  to  her;  her  quarry  had  not  escaped 
her  yet. 

The  tree,  one  of  the  giants  of  her  father's  ranch 
that  she  knew  very  well,  thrust  its  crest  upward  so 
close  to  the  cliffs  that  many  of  the  branches  had  been 
bent  this  way  and  that,  flattening  against  the  granite. 
The  lowest  limb,  twenty  feet  above  the  girl's  head, 
was  as  thick  as  many  a  tall  tree  hereabouts,  and  was 
like  a  giant's  arm,  bent  at  the  elbow,  thrusting  the 
rocks  back.  She  could  make  her  way  up  this  far, 
working  along  a  ragged  fissure  in  the  cliff;  thence 
she  could  edge  out  upon  the  broad  limb  until  she 
came  to  the  trunk  itself.  And  once  there,  to  Wanda 
in  her  hunting  costume  and  with  her  knowledge  of 
tree  climbing,  the  rest  of  the  way,  from  limb  to 


WANDA'S  DISCOVERY  147 

limb,  might  be  difficult  but  would  certainly  not  be 
impossible  or  fraught  with  unaccustomed  danger. 

.The  cub  had  climbed  until  coming  to  a  limb  which 
like  the  lowest  one  scraped  against  the  rock  not  half 
a  dozen  feet  from  the  tapering  trunk,  he  had  crept 
out  on  it  and  was  lying  upon  a  ledge  of  rock. 
Wanda  hoped  that  here  was  the  opportunity  of  a 
lifetime.  She  would  climb  as  high  as  that  limb,  and 
find  the  cub's  flight  shut  off  by  the  sheer  wall  rising 
perpendicularly  behind  him.  Then  she  would  make 
him  pose  for  her,  whether  he  liked  it  or  not. 

Flushed  and  panting  the  girl  made  her  way  up 
ward  until  finally  she  caught  with  both  hands  the 
big  lower  limb.  Field  glasses  and  camera  in  their 
cases  strapped  to  her  belt  in  no  way  interfered  with 
the  free  play  of  her  muscles.  She  tested  the  branch 
a  moment,  smiled  at  herself  for  hesitating  to  trust 
her  light  weight  to  a  thing  which  would  have  carried 
tons,  gripped  a  firmer  hold  and  swung  free  of  the 
rocks.  Here  would  have  been  a  picture  for  her 
mother  had  she  come  with  her  this  morning;  the 
lithe  graceful  body  swinging  twenty  feet  high  in  air, 
only  hard  slab  and  broken  boulder  beneath  her. 
Then  she  drew  herself  up  as  a  boy  does  "  chinning 
himself,"  threw  a  heel  over  the  limb,  and  in  a  flash 
lay  breathing  deeply  and  triumphantly,  the  most  dif 
ficult  step  of  her  climb  achieved. 

Slowly,  steadily  she  made  her  way  upward.  In 
the  main  it  was  simple  enough  for  Wanda  for  it  was 
the  sort  of  thing  she  did  over  and  over  week  in  and 


148  THE  SHORT  CUT 

week  out.  Once,  already  fifty  feet  from  the 
ground,  she  did  something  that  would  have  been 
simple  enough  under  other  circumstances  and  yet 
which  put  a  quick  flutter  in  her  heart.  It  was  some 
thing  which  would  have  made  the  heart  grow  still 
in  the  breast  of  Wayne  Shandon  had  he  seen,  which 
would  have  brought  a  paralysing  fear  for  her  to  a 
man  who  loved  life  for  the  gamble  in  it  and  who 
took  his  chances  recklessly. 

She  was  perched  fearlessly  upon  a  sturdy  hori 
zontal  limb,  her  body  tight  pressed  against  the 
trunk,  her  hands  gripping  at  the  roughened  bark, 
steadying  her  as  she  balanced.  A  quick  glance  up 
ward  showed  her  a  bare  stretch  of  bole  with  the 
nearest  limb  on  her  side  of  the  tree  just  barely  be 
yond  her  reach.  Slowly  she  straightened,  lengthen 
ing  her  pliant  body  the  imperceptible  fraction  of 
an  inch,  gradually  thrusting  her  two  arms  up  high 
above  her  head,  still  with  her  hands  steadying  her  as 
they  clung  to  the  bark,  her  moccasined  feet  curving 
to  the  limb  on  which  she  stood.  And  now  she  could 
just  touch  with  the  tips  of  her  fingers  the  broad 
branch  above. 

Then  she  did  the  thing  which  would  have  been 
simple  enough  had  she  stood  on  the  ground  instead 
of  balancing  high  in  air;  she  measured  the  few 
inches  in  distance,  she  drew  her  fingers  lingeringly 
from  the  bark,  holding  them  still  above  her  head, 
she  tautened  the  muscles  of  her  splendid  young 
body  to  the  work  they  were  called  upon  to  do,  bent 


WANDA'S  DISCOVERY  149 

her  knees  little  by  little,  and  then  fearless  still  but 
agitated,  she  leaped  upward,  and  grasped  the  elusive 
branch. 

For  a  moment  she  swung  there,  secure  now  and 
confident,  and  then,  as  she  had  gained  the  first  step 
in  her  climb  so  now  she  made  this  one.  A  slow 
tensing  of  biceps,  a  drawing  up  of  the  pendulous 
body,  the  quick  flash  of  a  heel  thrown  over  the  limb, 
and  she  lay  upon  it,  laughing  softly.  It  was  good 
and  glorious  to  be  young,  to  have  a  body  that  obeyed 
one's  will,  to  have  a  steady  heart. 

Presently  she  began  once  more  to  clamber  up 
ward,  her  way  comparatively  easy  now.  Thus  at 
last  she  came  to  the  branch  upon  which,  as  on  a 
bridge,  the  little  brown  bear  had  crossed  to  the  ledge 
of  rock.  And  together  there  came  to  her  a  distinct 
disappointment  and  a  pleasurable  surprise. 

Again  the  cub  had  slipped  away  from  her;  per 
haps  by  now  he  was  half  a  mile  away  and  tumbling 
his  awkward  and  terrified  way  among  the  crags. 

From  below  the  ledge  had  seemed  to  be  four  or 
five  feet  wide;  now  she  saw  that  it  was  nearer  ten. 
The  conformation  of  the  rocks,  beetling  above  it, 
had  led  her  to  imagine  that  a  straight  wall  of  cliff 
rose  abruptly  just  at  the  back  of  the  ledge.  In 
reality  they  overhung  the  rudely  level  space  like  out- 
jutting  eaves  over  the  sun-deck  that  might  have  been 
carved  to  his  taste  by  some  old  cliff  dweller  in  front 
of  his  solitary  retreat.  For  there  was  a  cavern  here 
under  the  frowning  brow  of  granite,  different  from 


150  THE  SHORT  CUT 

the  many  caves  of  which  the  girl  knew  in  the  rugged 
mountains  only  in  that  it  was  so  roomy  and  at  the 
same  time  so  secret  a  place. 

Before  she  left  her  resting  place,  she  saw  the  way 
the  cub  had  gone.  Leading  upward  from  the  ex 
treme  end  of  the  ledge,  at  the  right,  there  was  a  deep 
seam  or  crevice  in  the  granite,  almost  filled  and 
choked  with  fallen  rocky  debris  from  above,  but  af 
fording  a  trail  that  even  a  man  might  travel  to  the 
top  of  the  cliffs  another  fifty  feet  above.  There  was 
a  quantity  of  fine  sandy  soil  at  the  lower  end  of  the 
narrow  cut  and  on  the  edge  of  the  ledge,  and  her 
trained  eyes  had  slight  difficulty  in  seeing  the  signs 
of  little  bruin's  headlong  flight.  As  he  scurried 
upward  he  had  left  the  marks  of  his  toes  in  long 
unmistakable  scratches. 

"I  wonder,"  thought  the  girl  with  a  little  thrill 
at  what  her  fancy  pictured  for  her,  "  if  any  of  the 
rest  of  the  family  are  at  home?  " 

The  mother  bear  had  been  killed;  one  cub  was 
dead;  the  second  had  fled  to  the  clitf^tops.  Here, 
where  bears  were  growing  scarcer  every  year,  there 
was  little  danger  of  her  meeting  the  pater  familias. 
And  yet  — 

"  If  I  should  meet  a  bear  in  there,"  she  laughed 
to  herself,  "  I  wonder  who'd  be  scared  most?  " 

She  made  herself  as  comfortable  as  she  could, 
drew  her  camera  from  its  case,  focused  it  upon  the 
yawning,  black  mouth  of  the  cavern  and  waited  a 
patient  quarter  of  an  hour,  noiseless  and  listening 


She  made  herself   as    comfortable  as  she   could,  drew  her 
camera  from  its  case,  and  waited  a  patient  quarter  of  an 
hour 


WANDA'S  DISCOVERY  151 

and  ready.  For  she  was  familiar  enough  with  the 
California  brown  bear  to  know  that  he  will  not 
attack  when  the  way  of  retreat  is  clear;  that  while, 
after  he  gets  into  a  fight  he  extracts  a  great  deal  of 
delight  from  it,  still  if  given  his  choice  he  would 
rather  run  and  keep  on  moving  until  he  had  covered 
anywhere  from  ten  to  sixty  miles. 

When  nothing  but  silence  answered  her,  she 
leaned  out  on  the  limb  and  tossed  her  hat  into  the 
mouth  of  the  cave.  After  it  she  threw  some  big 
pieces  of  bark,  making  them  land  well  inside  with 
no  little  noise.  As  there  was  still  no  sound  she 
waited  no  longer. 

The  branch  out  upon  which  she  edged  her  slow 
way  was  both  sturdy  in  itself  and  made  doubly 
safe  by  the  fact  that  it  lay  across  the  ledge,  reaching 
with  its  tips  to  the  rock  wall  at  the  side  of  the 
natural  door.  In  a  moment  she  had  scrambled 
across,  had  leaped  to  her  feet  and  was  peering  into 
the  vast,  shadowy  interior. 

There  are  few  of  us  for  whom  a  cave  does  not 
have  a  rare  attraction,  an  appeal  little  short  of  fasci 
nating,  that  has  in  it  something  of  romance  perhaps, 
certainly  something  of  mystery  and  a  dim,  vague 
stirring  of  primitive  and  vital  feelings,  a  shadowy 
harking  back  to  the  early  life  history  of  mankind. 
To  Wanda  Leland,  in  so  many  essentials  a  child  of 
the  wild,  such  a  cavern  as  this  was  a  bit  of  wonder 
land.  Her  swift  running,  pioneer  blood  tingled; 
her  heart  gladdened  with  a  glow  of  discovery  and 


152  THE  SHORT  CUT 

exploration.  Perhaps  cave  men  had  dwelt  here, 
secure  and  watchful,  in  the  forgotten  ages ;  the  idea 
thrilled.  Certainly  no  man  of  her  own  time  or  her 
father's  knew  of  the  place:  that  thought  made  the 
spot  her  own,  and  intensified  her  eager  delight  in 
finding  it.  It  had,  to  her  sensitive,  imaginative 
nature,  an  aura  that  she  felt  had  clung  to  it  always. 
It  was  a  bit  of  the  wild,  the  retreat  of  the  wild  things, 
sternly  expressive  of  a  savage  grandeur. 

Her  sensations  a  strange  composite  of  many  dim, 
intangible,  inexpressible  emotions,  Wanda  tiptoed  to 
the  opening,  paused  listening,  took  two  or  three 
quick  steps  and  was  inside  the  cave.  For  a  moment 
she  fully  expected  to  see  the  sight  she  dreaded,  a 
pair  of  gleaming  points  of  light  blazing  at  her 
menacingly.  And  for  a  little  she  saw  nothing  but 
shadowy,  unreal  shapes.  Her  heart  leaped  wildly 
as  the  startling  fancy  came  to  her  that  these  were 
the  phantoms  of  the  long  dead  time  when  men  had 
lived  here,  ghosts  of  the  older  race. 

Then  she  laughed  softly  again,  once  more  accused 
herself  of  being  "  stupid,"  and  began  her  explora 
tions.  Little  by  little  as  she  grew  accustomed  to 
the  scant  light  here  she  made  out  dim  bits  of  detail. 
First  she  realised  that  her  first  conjecture  had  been 
quite  right,  and  that  this  was  the  biggest  cave  by  far 
that  she  had  ever  seen.  She  moved  forward  half 
a  dozen  steps,  walking  warily  for  fear  of  a  fall 
and  found  that  the  light  from  the  entrance  died  into 
deep  darkness  before  it  could  search  out  the  sides 


WANDA'S  DISCOVERY  153 

of  the  great  cliff  room.  Then  she  went  back  out 
upon  the  ledge  and  gathered  from  the  debris  choked 
fissure  an  armful  of  broken  bits  of  dry  wood,  twigs 
and  needles  from  the  cedar.  In  the  pocket  of  her 
blouse  were  the  matches  which  she  always  carried 
with  her  on  her  trips  and  in  a  moment  a  crackling 
flame  near  the  cave  door  shot  its  wavering  light  deep 
into  the  dark  interior.  Then  again  she  hurried  in, 
eager  to  see  what  lay  before  her. 

Nowhere  was  the  rock  roof  lower  than  ten  feet 
save  where  far  back  it  slanted  toward  the  floor. 
The  floor  itself  sloped  so  gently  toward  the  back 
that  it  seemed  quite  level.  She  judged  at  first 
glimpse,  as  the  firelight  drew  from  the  gloom  a  glint 
ing  granite  surface  here  and  there,  that  the  chamber 
was  twenty  feet  wide,  that  it  reached  back  into  the 
cliffs  some  fifty  feet.  She  moved  back  toward  what 
seemed  the  rear  wall,  found  the  floor  pitching 
steeply  ahead  of  her,  noticed  a  rush  of  fresh  air 
stirring  her  hair  and  paused  suddenly,  listening.  A 
low  sound  that  at  first  she  could  neither  locate  nor 
analyse,  came  faintly  to  her  as  from  a  great  distance: 

With  her  hand  on  the  rock  wall  she  moved  for 
ward  again  slowly  and  cautiously.  Still  the  floor 
pitched  steeply  as  she  went  on,  still  the  rush  of  air 
was  in  her  face  and  with  it  the  low  rumble,  growing 
more  distinct.  It  was  like  nothing  so  much  as  roll 
ing  thunder,  very  far  off,  or  the  half  heard  beat  of 
the  ocean  on  a  distant,  rock  bound  coast.  Again 
abruptly  the  way  under  foot  grew  almost  level,  she 


154  THE  SHORT  CUT 

was  on  a  plane  some  six  feet  lower  than  the  ledge 
outside,  and  as  she  took  another  step  forward,  pass 
ing  round  a  great  slab  of  granite  that  jutted  out  in 
her  way,  she  came  upon  an  unexpected  glint  of  light 
and  a  sight,  seen  dimly,  that  made  her  cry  out  in 
startled  surprise. 

From  far  above,  from  some  indefinite,  hidden 
opening,  the  light  from  the  big  outdoors  filtered 
down  upon  her.  There  was  a  brooding  dusk  here 
made  vibrant  with  the  clamouring  voice  that  was  no 
longer  like  distant  thunder  but  resolved  itself  into 
the  echoing  fall  of  water.  Water  that  came  from 
the  darkness  above,  that  flashed  a  few  feet  through 
the  dim  light,  that  leaped  out  and  plunged  into  the 
darkness  again,  shouting  and  thundering  as  it 
dropped  into  a  yawning  ink  black  void  rimmed  with 
granite  boulders.  She  crept  closer,  her  ears  filled 
with  the  din,  her  eyes  bright  with  the  strange,  weird, 
almost  unearthly  beauty  of  the  place.  She  crept  so 
close,  gripping  one  of  the  boulders  with  tightening 
fingers,  that  she  could  peer  downward  into  the  chasm 
that  swallowed  the  water.  It  was  only  a  small 
stream,  such  as  is  born  in  the  High  Sierra  of  melting 
snows,  but  its  dizzy  fall,  its  mad  leaping,  the  echoes 
that  were  never  still,  caused  a  murmurous  sound  that 
swelled  and  lessened  fitfully  but  was  never  still. 

She  found  a  loose  stone  and  pushed  it  over  the 
edge,  leaning  forward  swiftly  to  listen,  seeking  to 
trust  to  her  ears  since  her  eyes  could  tell  her  nothing 
of  the  depth  that  lay  below.  She  heard  the  stone 


WANDA'S  DISCOVERY  155 

strike,  clatter  against  the  rocky  sides,  strike  again 
and  again,  the  sound  growing  fainter  until  at  last  it 
was  lost  altogether  in  the  noise  of  the  water/ 

She  stood  up,  drew  back  and  looked  across  the 
chasm  which  lay  like  a  gash  upon  the  rocky  floor. 
She  judged  it  to  be  fifteen  feet  wide,  maybe  wider; 
upon  the  far  side  and  perhaps  fifty  feet  further  back, 
there  was  a  splotch  of  light  indicating  a  way  out 
there  into  the  open  day.  But  the  bottomless  abyss 
shut  off  all  passage  to  the  other  side,  its  echoes 
growling  threateningly  as  though  they  were  what 
they  seemed  to  the  girl's  quickened  fancies,  the  rest 
less  mutterings  of  giant  things  imprisoned  in  the 
deepest  bowels  of  the  earth. 

"  If  I  ever  wanted  to  run  away  from  all  the 
world,"  she  mused  fantastically,  "  I'd  come  here !  " 

And  then,  suddenly  shuddering,  she  went  back 
hurriedly  to  the  open. 


CHAPTER  XII 

THE   TALES   OF  MR.   WILLIE  DART 

BEING  a  girl  very  much  in  love,  her  lover  had 
been  already  as  long  out  of  her  thoughts  as 
he  could  ever  be,  and  now  he  came  back  into 
them  and  became  the  centre  of  them. 

She  sat  down  just  outside  the  doorway  of  the 
cave,  hat,  gauntlets,  glasses  and  camera  at  her  side, 
her  knees  clasped  in  her  hands  and  stared  away 
through  the  cedar's  intricate,  rustling  needles  and 
across  the  tops  of  the  forest  sweeping  away  from 
the  cliffs  across  the  verdant  miles,  and  day  dreamed. 
This  newly  found  cave  was  her  own,  absolutely  her 
own.  No  other  man  or  woman  in  the  world  knew 
of  it.  She  would  come  here  again,  always  careful 
that  no  chance  eye  saw  her;  she  would  bring  little 
things  to  make  of  it  a  lady's  bower  set  above  the 
leafy  world.  There  would  come,  in  due  season, 
cushions  which  she  would  work  secretly  in  her  bed 
room  at  home  and  which  she  would  fill  here  with 
fragrant  pine  needles  and  sweet  scented  herbs; 
there  would  be  a  book  or  two;  little,  unused  things 
would  disappear  from  Julia's  kitchen,  a  tea  pot,  a 
bit  of  coffee,  knives,  forks  and  spoons;  and  some 
day  when  the  full  summer  had  brought  the  sunshine 
that  would  dissipate  the  shadows  of  these  last  days 

156 


TALES  OF  MR.  WILLIE  DART      157 

Wayne  Shandon  would  come  here,  would  stand  under 
the  cliffs  looking  up  wonderingly;  would  climb  her 
magic  ladder  and  dine  with  her. 

As  she  sat,  leaning  back  against  the  rocks,  day 
dreaming  as  Youth  cannot  help  doing,  her  eyes  wan 
dered  far  across  her  father's  ranch.  She  found 
the  view  new  to  her.  Yonder  nothing  but  the  fresh 
green  of  the  tops  fir  and  pine  had  thrust  upward  in 
the  spring;  beneath  them,  seen  only  now  and  then 
as  it  frisked  out  of  shadow  and  glinted  in  sunlight, 
Echo  Creek;  beyond  the  creek  — 

She  sat  up  straight,  suddenly  picking  up  her  field 
glasses.  Yes,  beyond  all  this  she  saw  the  knoll 
upon  which  her  father's  house  stood,  even  the  build 
ing  itself  through  its  clump  of  cedars.  But  her 
glasses,  raised  higher  sweeping  back  and  forth,  had 
found  the  river,  and  travelling  on  picked  up  the  Bar 
L-M  buildings  and  corrals !  —  Next  time  she  would 
bring  the  larger  glasses,  and  leave  them  here,  hid 
den  in  the  cave. 

For  a  long  time  she  gazed  across  the  river,  her 
heart  beating  quickly  with  the  hope  that  she  might 
see,  somewhere  in  the  wide  view,  the  man  who  was 
in  her  heart.  Finally,  with  a  sigh,  she  lowered  her 
glasses,  letting  them  follow  Echo  Creek  speeding 
down  the  long  slope  of  her  father's  valley.  And, 
doing  so,  it  happened  that  there  came  into  the  disc 
of  her  vision  a  man  whom  she  knew  she  had  never 
seen  before.  For  a  few  minutes  she  watched  him 
riding  up  the  valley,  idly  amused  at  the  awkward 


i58  THE  SHORT  CUT 

manner  of  his  progress.  When  his  horse  walked 
he  clung  tenaciously  to  the  saddle  horn;  when  the 
animal  trotted  he  gave  her  the  impression  that  at 
any  step  he  was  going  to  fall  off.  At  last,  when  she 
had  lost  sight  of  him  among  the  trees,  and  her  inter 
est  lagged,  she  made  her  way  down  from  the  cliff, 
went  back  to  Gypsy  and  turned  her  horse's  head 
toward  home. 

The  man  whom  she  had  watched  clinging  to  his 
horse's  back  so  desperately  was  not  only  a  new 
comer  to  the  Sierra  and  a  stranger,  but  a  poor  sort 
of  person  to  be  alone  where  there  is  a  dearth  of 
paved  sidewalks  and  streets  with  names  and  num 
bers.  He  had  lost  himself  many  times  since  leav 
ing  El  Toyon  the  day  before,  and  now,  with  the 
main  valley  road  as  plain  before  him  as  a  man  could 
wish  a  road  to  be,  he  forsook  it  and  came  on  blindly 
along  a  second  road  that  the  Echo  Creek  wagons 
had  travelled  last  week  for  wood.  And  Wanda, 
riding  down  to  the  creek,  met  him  when  he  had 
reached  a  state  of  perspiring  despair. 

"  Say!  "  he  called  shrilly  when,  barely  in  earshot, 
he  caught  his  first  view  of  her.  "  Say,  wait  a  min 
ute,  won't  you?  " 

Wanda,  smiling  a  little  at  the  evident  distress 
which  gave  her  her  first  impression  of  the  man, 
came  on  to  meet  him.  She  stopped  Gypsy  with  a 
swift,  gentle  touch  upon  the  reins,  while  he  yanked 
his  sweating  horse  about  by  pulling  manfully  at 
both  reins  held  one  in  each  hand. 


TALES  OF  MR.  WILLIE  DART      159 

"  Say,"  was  his  next  word  of  greeting,  "  ain't  this 
the  doggondest,  peskiest  wild  man's  land  you  ever 
shot  a  glimmer  of  your  eye  at?  Gee,  ain't  it  fierce, 
lady?" 

Wanda's  smile  brightened  in  spite  of  her.  He 
shook  his  head  and  pursed  his  underlip  and  mopped 
his  reeking  face. 

"  I'm  just  in  a  cold  sweat  all  over,"  he  confided 
ruefully.  "  What  with  the  rubbing  of  this  saddle 
on  the  outside, —  an  old  pirate  with  eyes  like  a 
young  sheep  and  whiskers  like  Santa  Claus  robbed 
me  of  twenty  bucks  for  it  back  yonder  in  that  jay 
town, —  and  my  bones  inside  trying  to  poke  through 
the  skin,  I'm  just  peeled  like  a  seal  whose  skin  some 
flash  dame  is  wearing  for  a  coat.  Say,"  with  a 
groan  as  he  shifted  a  little  in  the  saddle  which  he 
blamed  for  his  woes,  "  you  don't  live  so  awful  far 
from  here,  do  you?  " 

"  No,"  she  smiled.     "  Just  across  the  valley." 

"  Nix  on  that!  "  he  cried  sharply,  as  if  in  sudden 
alarm.  "  They  been  talking  that  way  to  me  ever 
since  I  got  lost  the  eighty-second  time.  '  Down  to 
a  cross  road,'  they'd  say,  lying  as  would  shame  a 
second  story  man  caught  with  the  goods.  *  Then 
turn  to  your  right  and  go  straight  ahead  and  it's 
just  a  little  piece.'  I  ain't  ever  hurt  you,  lady,  and 
I  wouldn't,  not  for  a  hundred  dollars.  But  I'm 
awful  sore  being  told  it's  just  over  yonder.  How 
far  is  it,  measured  in  something  civilised,  like 
blocks?" 


160  THE  SHORT  CUT 

He  was  the  most  anxiously  earnest  little  man 
Wanda  had  ever  seen,  and  the  most  dejectedly  mis 
erable.  Still  vastly  amused  she  began  to  feel  a  little 
sorry  for  him.  He  was  such  a  veritable  babe  in  the 
wood  for  helplessness. 

"  Really,  it  isn't  far,"  she  assured  him.  "  Just 
a  trifle  over  three  miles." 

"Lord,"  he  groaned,  staring  at  her  reproach 
fully.  "  The  way  you  folks  talk  about  distance  out 
here  makes  my  flesh  creep.  But,  say,  is  that  the 
nearest  place?  " 

"  Yes." 

1  Then  can  I  go  home  with  you,  Miss  ?  And 
will  you  scare  up  something  for  me  to  eat?  I'm  so 
starved  I'd  eat  egg  shells." 

He  was  such  a  harmless  looking,  innocent, 
pitiable  creature  with  his  plaintive  voice  and  child 
ish  eyes  that  her  amusement  turned  to  pity. 

"  If  you  are  very  hungry  and  tired,"  she  sug 
gested  gently,  "  you  can  lunch  with  me  now.  I 
always  bring  something  along  to  eat." 

His  eyes  brightened  and  a  smile  set  quick  dimples 
in  the  round  face.  He  released  his  bridle  reins 
promptly,  put  his  two  hands  on  the  horn  of  the 
saddle  —  Wanda  noticed  that  they  were  hands  like 
a  girl's,  soft  and  white  with  beautiful,  tapering 
fingers  and  rosy  nails  —  got  a  stiff  leg  over  the 
cantle,  wriggled  over  on  his  stomach  and  as  his 
horse  moved  a  little  he  fell  off.  For  a  moment  he 
remained  sitting. 


TALES  OF  MR.  WILLIE  DART      161 

"  Birds  was  made  to  fly  and  fishes  to  swim/'  he 
remarked  impersonally  and  philosophically.  "  Me, 
I'm  going  to  walk  after  this.  I  ain't  ever  going  to 
split  myself  in  two  over  a  horse  again." 

"  You'll  have  to  ride  to  the  house." 

"  You  don't  know  me,  Miss.  I'm  Mr.  Willie 
Dart,  and  when  I  make  up  my  mind  like  I  done  just 
now  it's  final.  I'll  walk  those  three  miles  on  foot, 
and  when  I  can't  walk  no  further  I'll  crawl,  and 
when  I  can't  crawl  I'll  lay  down  and  die.  But  I'm 
through  being  a  cowboy." 

Thereupon  he  arose  rheumatically,  carefully 
dusted  his  gay  checkered  suit,  gave  much  attention 
to  the  crease  in  his  jaunty  little  hat,  adjusted  his 
bright  blue  tie,  daintily  tapped  his  cuffs  back  into  his 
coat  sleeves  and  bestowed  a  beaming,  cherubic  smile 
upon  Wanda. 

"  Let's  eat,"  he  suggested. 

She  dismounted  and  spread  out  her  luncheon 
upon  the  paper  in  which  it  had  been  wrapped,  kneel 
ing  down  on  a  grassy  plot  near  the  creek.  Mr. 
Dart  hovered  over  her  in  frank  eagerness,  giving 
vent  to  various  chuckling  sounds  bespeaking  deep 
satisfaction  as  he  saw  that  there  was  cold  chicken 
and  ham,  cheese  and  buttered  bread.  Then  they 
ate,  Wanda  sparingly,  pretending  to  have  little  ap 
petite,  Mr.  Dart  swiftly  and  joyously  and  noisily. 
And,  with  his  mouth  crammed  full  and  his  cheeks 
puffed  out  gopher-wise,  he  talked.  He  demanded 
her  name  and  her  father's  business;  he  wanted  to 


1 62  THE  SHORT  CUT 

know  what  she  was  doing  so  far  from  home  and  if 
she  wasn't  afraid;  he  ascertained  that  buffaloes  were 
extinct  in  this  part,  of  the  West  if  they  had  ever 
been  here  which  was  to  be  doubted;  he  thrilled  and 
drew  closer  to  the  girl  upon  learning  that  a  bear 
had  been  shot  near  this  spot;  and,  abruptly,  he  asked 
if  she  knew  a  guy  named  Shandon? 

"Wayne  Shandon?"  she  asked  curiously. 

"  That's  him.     Red  Head  for  sure,  ain't  he  ?  " 

She  admitted  that  he  was,  hesitated  a  moment  at 
his  next  question,  and  then  answered  it  by  saying 
that  Mr.  Shandon  was  a  friend  of  her  family. 

"  Good  kid,  ain't  he?  "  he  went  on,  a  little  flushed 
from  his  eating.  "  Friend  of  mine,  too.  We're 
great  chums,  me  and  Red.  Ain't  he  ever  told  you 
about  me,  Willie  Dart?" 

"  I  don't  think  so.     You  have  known  him  long?  " 

He  poked  into  his  mouth  the  last  quarter  of  the 
sandwich  in  his  left  hand,  secured  a  bit  of  cheese 
with  his  right,  and  answered: 

"  Long?  Say,  Wanda,  I've  known  that  boy  since 
he  was  a  kid!  Me  and  him  worked  together  and 
slept  together  and  et  together  up  in  the  Klondike 
all  year  back  in  ninety-six." 

"  Ninety-six? "  she  frowned.  "Mr.  Shandon 
wasn't  in  the  Klondike  in  ninety-six !  He  was  right 
here." 

"  Oh,"  admitted  Mr.  Dart  easily,  "  I  ain't  sure  it 
was  ninety-six.  Might  have  been  ninety-seven. 
Funny  he  ain't  ever  told  you  about  me.  Never 


TALES  OF  MR.  WILLIE  DART      163 

mentioned,  did  he,  how  we  got  into  a  snow  drift 
one  time  and  had  to  eat  our  dogs  and  I  got  him  out 
final?" 

"  No,"  she  said,  wondering  a  little  what  sort  of 
being  he  would  prove  to  be  if  one  came  to  know 
him.  He  did  not  look  as  though  he  had  ever  lived 
the  rough  life  he  mentioned  so  glibly;  certainly  his 
hands  were  not  the  hands  of  a  frontiersman. 

"  Maybe  it's  because  I  made  him  promise  not  to 
talk  about  it,"  he  went  on  carelessly.  "  The  papers 
was  full  of  it  up  there  and  I  got  kinda  sore  being 
made  so  much  of.  He's  grateful  though.  But  he 
hadn't  ought  to  be.  He  more  than  squared  the 
deal  six  months  ago  when  we  run  up  against  one 
another  in  New  York.  It  was  this  way:  " 

And  asking  no  encouragement  he  plunged  eagerly 
into  his  tale.  It  devolved  from  the  first  word  that 
Red  was  sure  a  corker,  a  guy  you  could  tie  to  until 
snowballs  foregathered  in  a  clime  in  which,  accord 
ing  to  popular  fancy,  they  are  an  extreme  rarity. 
He  was  on  the  dead  level,  he  was  at  once  a  game  kid 
and  a  red  hot  sport.  Red  had  seen  the  name  of 
his  friend  in  a  society  sheet  and  had  looked  him  up 
at  the  Astoria.  Mr.  Dart  had  been  naturally  over 
joyed  to  renew  acquaintance  with  an  old  pal.  And 
as  it  happened  Red  was  to  step  in  between  him  and 
certain  death. 

Mr.  Dart  had  been  going  it  a  bit  and  had  got  into 
a  foreign  set.  He  mentioned  casually  a  couple  of 
French  dukes  and  a  German  prince  with  fat,  puffy 


1 64  THE  SHORT  CUT 

eyes.  There  were  others  of  them.  They  had 
played  cards  together  at  one  time  and  another  and 
it  seemed  a  general  truth  that  foreigners  were  bad 
losers.  Besides,  one  of  the  French  dukes,  a  shiny 
man  like  a  waiter  in  a  cheap  cafe,  had  a  very  lovely 
wife.  Mr.  Dart  esteemed  her  with  a  snow  white 
friendship.  But  the  French  Duke  was  jealous. 

Mr.  Dart's  fine,  white  fingers  gracefully  annexed 
a  piece  of  buttered  bread  and  the  tale  went  on. 
They  had  decoyed  him  to  a  dreary  downtown  haunt. 
They  were  all  there,  all  armed  with  revolvers.  In 
a  moment  it  would  be  all  night  with  Mr.  Willie 
Dart.  Enter  Red,  the  game  kid.  A  scene  of 
thrilling  unreality  in  which  the  game  kid  tempo 
rarily  disabled  or  permanently  crippled  every  man 
of  the  would-be  assassins.  Mr.  Dart  finished  the 
tale  and  his  bit  of  bread  together,  offering  the 
thoughtful,  concluding  remark,  that  so  much  pow 
der  smoke  in  the  close  room  had  made  him  cough. 

"  You  seem  to  be  on  very  intimate  terms  with  the 
foreign  nobility,"  Wanda  replied  quietly,  though 
she  kept  her  dancing  eyes  away  from  him. 

Willie  Dart  lifted  his  shoulders. 

"  Them  rummies  don't  qualify  for  finals,  when 
you  come  to  know  'em,  Wanda.  Honest,  they 
don't.  I  never  got  the  mit  of  one  of  'em  in  my  fist 
it  didn't  feel  like  a  dead  fish.  There  ain't  a  one. 
Say!  Didn't  Red  ever  tell  you  about  Helga?" 

uHelga?"  She  shook  her  head.  "Who  is 
Helga  ?" 


TALES  OF  MR.  WILLIE  DART      165 

'  The  only  decent  piece  of  nobility  I  ever  sat 
across  the  table  from,"  enthusiastically.  He  had 
produced  a  pack  of  Little  Soldier  cigarettes  and 
lighted  one  before  resuming.  "  She's  Roosian,  is 
Helga;  a  Roosian  Princess.  Funny  Red  never  told 
you  about  her.  Gee,  he's  just  like  an  oyster,  that 
kid,  ain't  he?  Here's  the  straight  dope  on  that 
business;  I  know  because  I  was  along." 

It  seemed  that  Mr.  Dart  and  Red  had  been  two 
of  a  fashionable  yachting  party  that  had  gone  frisk 
ing  down  under  the  Palisades  and  out  into  the 
open  sea.  The  Princess  Helga,  a  sure  enough  stun 
ner,  take  it  from  Mr.  Dart,  had  the  men  all  dippy 
from  the  crack  of  the  gun  to  the  break  of  the  tape. 
He  admitted  with  a  sigh  which  absorbed  a  great 
deal  of  his  cigarette  smoke,  which  after  an  eloquent 
pause  made  pale  exit  through  his  nostrils,  that  he 
hadn't  got  over  her  effect  on  him  yet. 

Well,  they  were  out  beyond  Sandy  Hook,  and 
the  wind  was  blowing  and  the  white  foam  flying  and 
the  yacht  beating  it  down  the  coast  like  the  mill 
tails  of  —  like  anything,  you  know.  Suddenly 
there  was  a  scream  and  the  Princess  Helga  was 
overboard.  The  yacht  passed  her  about  a  half 
mile  before  anybody  thought  about  turning  it 
around,  they  were  all  that  excited.  But  Red,  say 
he  didn't  lose  his  head  two  seconds,  not  him.  Say, 
he  was  overboard  like  a  shot,  and  he  had  gone  down 
under  the  water  and  had  come  up  with  the  Princess 
Helga  in  his  arms.  After  that  — 


1 66  THE  SHORT  CUT 

Well,  Mr.  Dart  rather  guessed,  with  another  sigh 
and  subsequent  expulsion  of  cigarette  smoke,  that  it 
was  a  pretty  hard  case.  The  Princess  Helga  hadn't 
looked  at  another  man  since. 

Wanda  having  conceded  merrily  that  Mr.  Dart's 
tales  were  intensely  interesting  and  marked  by  the 
ring  of  truth,  was  further  informed  concerning  the 
private  affairs  of  Mr.  Dart  himself.  He  had  taken 
the  notion  to  come  out  and  see  his  old  friend;  his 
one  reason  in  the  world  for  being  here  lay  in  that 
determination. 

"  I'm  surprising  him,"  he  admitted  complacently. 
"  Red'll  be  clean  tickled  to  death  to  see  me.  Most 
likely  we'll  go  into  business  out  here  together.  I'm 
looking  for  an  invest — " 

Suddenly  he  let  out  a  wild  scream,  scrambled  to 
his  feet,  and  fled  behind  Wanda,  his  ruddy  cheeks 
suddenly  paling. 

"My  God!"  he  chattered.  u  Look  at  that 
thing!" 

Wanda  looked  and  saw  what  since  a  child  she  had 
called  a  "  Snake-lizard,"  a  very  frightened  snake- 
lizard  at  that,  which  with  tail  aloft  was  scampering 
wildly  from  near  Dart's  place  at  luncheon  into  the 
nearby  thicket.  Her  own  sudden  fright  that  had 
been  aroused  by  Dart's  headlong  dash  and  piercing 
yell  gave  way  to  a  peal  of  laughter. 

"  Look  here,  Wanda,"  he  said  sharply.  "  On 
the  level,  that  thing  ain't  deadly,  is  it?  I  been  set 
ting  on  it  for  half  an  hour,  I  know.  It  might  have 


TALES  OF  MR.  WILLIE  DART      167 

been  biting  me  all  the  time,  I'm  so  numb  I  wouldn't 
have  felt  it." 

She  assured  him,  chokingly,  that  there  was  no 
cause  for  alarm.  Dart  rubbed  himself  and  bright 
ened.  But  his  face  fell  again  as  she  went  on  to 
inform  him  that  the  creatures  were  so  numerous 
that  in  his  walk  home  he  might  encounter  a  dozen. 

So  it  was  that  Mr.  Willie  Dart  changed  his  mind 
and  decided  to  ride  the  three  miles  across  the  valley. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

SLEDGE   HUME  MAKES  A  CALL  AND  LAYS  A  WAGER 

OW,  my  erstwhile  Noble  Benefactor, 
brighten  up  and  look  happy.  I've  got 
some  red,  white  and  blue  news  for  you. 
I  like  you  first  rate,  I'm  strong  for  the  grub  and  I 
guess  I  can  stand  for  the  country  being  stood  on 
edge.  I've  come  to  stay!" 

The  door  had  been  flung  open  and  Mr.  Willie 
Dart  came  gaily  into  Wayne  Shandon's  bed  room 
carrying  a  big  book  in  his  hands,  trailing  a  long  wisp 
of  fragrant  smoke  from  one  of  his  host's  cigars 
behind  him.  Shandon  looked  at  him  with  a  sober, 
thoughtful  frown,  and  seemed  in  no  way  hilariously 
impressed  with  Mr.  Dart's  glad  tidings. 

Already  the  latter  had  been  at  the  Bar  L-M  sev 
eral  days.  During  this  time  Shandon  had  not  seen 
Wanda;  he  had  come  close  to  blows  with  Ruf  Et- 
tinger;  he  had  been  variously  and  grievously  an 
noyed  by  Mr.  Dart;  certain  other  matters  had  gone 
wrong;  and  altogether  he  was  in  no  pleasant  mood. 

"  Look  here,  Dart,"  he  replied  savagely,  kicking 
off  his  boot  so  hard  that  it  struck  against  the  far 
wall  of  the  room,  and  continuing  his  undressing  with 
a  fierceness  that  brought  a  momentary  speculative 

168 


SLEDGE  HUME  MAKES  A  CALL    169 

squint   into   Mr.    Dart's   innocent   eyes.     "  What's 
your  game,  anyhow?  " 

"Game?"  Willie  Dart  put  a  great  deal  of  re 
proach  into  his  tone.  "  Nix  on  that,  Red,  old 
sport.  When  a  man  travels  three  thousand  miles 
in  a  damned  stuffy  car  and  then  on  top  of  that  rides 
a  horse  like  I  did  clean  over  the  backbone  of  the 
universe,  just  through  gratitude  to  his  Noble 
Ben—" 

"  Oh,    damn    the    gratitude,"    cried    Shandon. 
"  I'm  tired  of  hearing  of  it.     I  most  heartily  wish 
that  I'd  let  matters  take  their  own  course." 

"  Now,"  resumed  Dart,  again  smilingly,  having 
softly  closed  the  door  and  made  himself  comfort 
able  in  a  chair,  "  what's  the  use  of  pals  getting  off 
wrong  with  one  another?  You  slipped  up  and  got 
your  tongue  twisted  when  you  said  what's  my  game. 
What  you'd  ought  to  have  said  was  what  noble  pur 
pose  is  kicking  around  in  my  manly  boosum.  You 
don't  seem  to  put  any  faith  in  me,  Red." 

Shandon's  short  laugh  prefixed  his  short  answer. 

"  Do  you  wonder  I  don't?  " 

Then  Mr.  Dart  chuckled. 

"  Come  right  down  to  it,  Red,  I  don't !  But  you 
wrong  me.  Gratitude,  my  Noble — " 

u  Call  me  that  once  more  and  I'll  heave  you 
through  the  window,"  snapped  Shandon.  "  If 
you've  got  anything  to  say,  say  it.  I'm  going  to 
bed." 

"  Don't  mind  me,"  Dart  hastened  to  say.     "  It 


170  THE  SHORT  CUT 

won't  bother  me  at  all.  What  I  was  going  to  say 
was  this:  Here  I've  come  all  the  way  from  New 
York—" 

"  No  doubt  because  you  were  run  out !  " 

"'  Just  through,  a  sense  of  gratitude.  What  can 
I  do  to  show  that  gratitude  has  been  the  only  worry 
to  keep  my  appetite  down  to  capacity?  I've  been 
here  a  week,  ain't  I?  Well,  the  first  thing  after  I 
got  rested  up  which  has  been  about  four  days  now, 
I  begun  thinking  about  that.  And  it  come  to  me 
like  this:  Old  Red's  got  troubles;  he  needs  a  friend 
that  would  live  in  a  temperance  town  just  to  help 
him.  Here's  a  place  for  Willie  Dart  to  fit  in  and 
do  some  good!  " 

Shandon  groaned. 

"  If  you  start  in  — " 

"  I've  started  already,"  beamed  Dart.  "  I  ain't 
had  much  time  for  fine  work,  yet,  and  I  don't  know 
the  play  quite  as  well  as  I  might,  but  I've  been  plant 
ing  little  seeds  of  kindness  promiscuous." 

"What  do  you  mean?  "  frowned  Shandon. 

"  Now  don't  go  to  getting  excited.  I'm  going  to 
tell  you,  ain't  I?  First  place,  the  day  I  got  into 
these  forests  primeval,  I  run  across  a  fairy  that 
could  be  Mrs.  Willie  Dart  in  a  minute  if  I  wasn't 
sworn  to  single  harness  by  my  dad  on  his  dying  bed 
down  in  Argentine." 

"  Last  time  he  died  it  was  in  Nova  Scotia,"  re 
marked  Shandon  drily.  "  Go  ahead." 

"  As  I  was  saying  she  was  fine  and  foxy,"  re- 


SLEDGE  HUME  MAKES  A  CALL     171 

sumed  Dart  pleasantly.  "  We  made  up  a  little 
lunch  and  went  out  for  a  picnic,  just  her  and  me. 
Soon  as  we  got  to  feeling  like  old  friends  and  I 
found  out  she  knew  you,  I  said,  '  Look  here, 
Wanda  — '  " 

"  What !  "  cried  Shandon,  bolt  upright. 

Mr.  Willie  Dart  blew  a  playful  puff  of  smoke  at 
him  and  picked  up  the  tale: 

"  I  said,  '  Look  here,  Wanda  — '  " 

"Wanda  who?"  sharply. 

"  Leland,  of  course.  Wanda  Leland.  Got  it 
now?  How  am  I  ever  going  to  get  anything  said 
if  you  keep  butting  in  like  that,  Red?  I  said, 
'  Look  here  — '  " 

"You  look  here!"  muttered  Shandon.  "I 
don't  like  to  hear  you  talk  about  her  at  all.  If 
you've  got  to  do  it,  call  her  Miss  Leland.  Under 
stand?" 

11  Aw,  rats,  Red.  What's  the  use  of  that  kind 
of  talk  between  friends?  She  don't  care." 

"  Well,  I  do.     And  I  mean  it." 

"  Oh,  all  right.  Well,  anyway,  we  was  setting 
on  a  log  together  and  we  got  to  talking  like  fellers 
and  girls  do,  you  know.  Good  God,  Red,  quit  your 
glaring  at  me  like  you  was  an  old  tomcat  screwing 
yourself  up  to  jump  a  mouse.  I  never  kissed  her 
even,  I  swear  I  didn't.  I  found  out  she  knew  you 
and  I  begun  right  then  being  a  real  friend.  Say, 
Red,  if  you  could  have  heard  the  fairy  tales  I 
dropped  into  that  fair  maiden's  pearly  ear !  " 


172  THE  SHORT  CUT 

His  dimples  twinkled  and  danced  and  deepened 
upon  his  round  face.  Shandon,  staring  at  him 
fearfully,  demanded  to  be  told  what  the  fairy  tales 
had  consisted  of.  Willie  Dart  eagerly  complied. 

"  I  set  right  in  watering  your  stock,  old  scout. 
I  told  her  you  were  a  hero  and  a  guy  a  man  could 
trust  a  gold  watch  to  that  didn't  have  any  marks  on 
it  to  prove  who  it  belonged  to.  I  begun  by  inform 
ing  her  how  you  came  to  my  rescue  when  a  hard 
fate  had  me  on  the  embers  of  despair." 

"  You  told  her  that?"  in  amazement. 

"  Oh,  don't  get  alarmed.  I  set  forth  the  account 
in  such  a  way  that  while  your  part  was  not  lessened 
my  own  was  not  exactly — " 

"  In  other  words  you  twisted  it  entirely  out  of 
shape,"  laughed  the  other.  "  You  forgot  to  say 
that  a  detective  nabbed  you  while  you  were  picking 
my  pocket  and  that  I  — " 

Willie  Dart  raised  a  soft  white  hand. 

"  I  showed  her  how  you  saved  my  bacon,"  he  said 
easily.  "What's  the  difference  how  you  done  it? 
Then,  when  I  got  through  that  and  I  could  see  she 
was  thinking  what  a  grand  man  you  are  and  she 
never  noticed  it  before,  I  slipped  a  card  off  a  fresh 
deck  and  related  your  adventures  with  the  Roosian 
princess." 

The  dimples  that  had  fled  as  his  host  mentioned 
a  certain  word  which  Mr.  Willie  Dart  did  not  like 
to  hear  now  came  back.  Shandon  stared  at  him 
wonderingly. 


SLEDGE  HUME  MAKES  A  CALL     173 

''What  in  the  devil  are  you  talking  about?  " 

"  I'm  talking  about  the  Roosian  princess," 
chuckled  Dart.  "  I  told  Wanda  all  about  her,  what 
a  nifty  dame  she  is,  you  know,  and  how  you  saved 
her  life  and  how  she  put  her  arms  around  your  neck 
and  cried  and  — " 

u  Good  Lord,"  groaned  Shandon.  "  I  could 
wring  your  neck,  Dart.  What  in  the  world  made  you 
lie  to  her  like  that?  " 

"  This  here  is  a  prime  cigar,  Red.  Better  send 
for  a  fresh  box,  this  one  is  drying  up.  Now,  I'm 
going  to  tell  you  something:  My  mother  was  a  for 
tune  teller  and  maybe  that's  why  it  is,  but  anyway 
I  can  dope  up  what  people  are  thinking  lots  of  times. 
I  hadn't  any  more  than  said  Red  Shandon  to  her 
than  I  got  wise  to  that  little  girl's  trouble.  Say, 
Red,  she's  just  naturally  stuck  on  you !  It's  a  fact ! 
Now,  when  a  woman's  stuck  on  a  guy,  what's 
the  way  to  make  her  go  clean  nuts  over  him? 
What's  the  answer?  Why,  just  tell  her  about 
the  other  woman  like  I  told  Wanda  about  Princess 
Helga." 

"Helga?"  cried  Shandon  in  sheer  wonder. 
"What  Helga?" 

'  The  Roosian  princess,"  beamed  Willie  Dart. 

"  Dart,"  very  sternly.  "  You  lie  to  me  now  and 
I'll  wire  the  police  of  New  York  that  you  are  here. 
I  ought  to  do  it  anyway;  I  would  have  done  it  when 
you  came  if  I  hadn't  been  a  fool  and  you  hadn't 
filled  me  up  with  your  lies  until  I  was  sorry  for  you. 


174  THE  SHORT  CUT 

Why  did  you  say  Helga?  Where  did  you  learn 
that  name?  What  Helga  do  you  know?  " 

Dart  hesitated  briefly,  his  childlike  eyes  smiling 
frankly,  the  shrewd  side  of  his  strange  brain  very 
busy. 

"  When  you  took  me  up  to  your  room  that  day  in 
New  York  and  threw  some  grub  into  me,"  he  replied 
at  last  with  apparent  carelessness,  "  and  left  me  for 
a  minute,  why  I  just  sort  of  looked  things  over. 
There  was  a  letter  with  Helga  signed  to  it.  The 
name's  awful  funny,  ain't  it?  She  is  Roosian,  ain't 
she?" 

"  What  do  you  know  about  her?  " 

"  Just  that  she  was  much  obliged  to  you  for  the 
information  you  promised  to  send  her  about  some 
thing  or  other.  It  ain't  anything  to  send  you  up  the 
river  for,  Red." 

"  What  did  you  tell  Miss  Leland?  " 

"  Miss  Leland?  Oh,  Wanda,  you  mean."  Mr. 
Dart  repeated  the  tale  he  had  told  Wanda  with  the 
many  fanciful  embellishments  which  it  seemed  neces 
sary  for  him  to  give  to  any  story  that  he  found  it 
necessary  to  repeat. 

"  I  sure  enough  boosted  your  game,  Red.  Say, 
kid,  it  worked  for  fair.  You  ought  to  have  — " 

Even  after  the  threats  which  Wayne  Shandon 
made  to  him  that  night  Willie  Dart  stayed  on. 
Shandon  declared  he  would  drive  him  off  the  place 
with  a  buggy  whip,  and  Willie  Dart  said  that  he'd 
come  back  if  he  was  chased  away.  Shandon  men- 


SLEDGE  HUME  MAKES  A  CALL     175 

tioned  the  police  of  New  York,  and  Dart  asked  him 
reproachfully  if  he  delighted  in  wounding  him  in  his 
most  sensitive  part;  wanted  to  know  if  his  Noble 
Benefactor  was  the  sort  to  drive  a  man  back  into 
the  mire  he  had  just  emerged  from,  to  thwart  all 
effort  to  lead  a  pure,  sweet,  rural  existence.  Finally 
Shandon  contented  himself  by  forbidding  Dart  to 
meddle  in  the  future  with  anything  not  in  any  way 
a  part  of  his  own  business;  and  nourished  the  secret 
hope  that  a  few  weeks  of  the  humdrum  of  mountain 
life  would  tire  this  sparrow  of. the  city  gutters. 
Whereupon,  when  alone  with  his  big  book  and  a 
fresh  cigar,  Willie  Dart  soliloquised  as  follows : 

"  He's  up  against  a  good  many  things,  poor  old 
Red  is.  He's  as  bad  in  love  with  Wanda  as  she 
is  with  him.  Her  old  man  is  soured  on  Red  and  is 
making  the  toboggan  slide  all  bumpy.  Then  there's 
some  sort  of  trouble  with  Ettinger.  There's  a  deal 
on  somewhere  I  ain't  wise  to,  and  Red  ain't  in  on 
it.  Wanda's  old  man  is  in  on  it,  so's  the  Weak 
Sister,  meaning  Garth,  so's  a  gent  name  of  Sledge 
hammer  Hume.  I  guess  time's  ripe  for  little  Willie 
Dart  to  mix  in  and  see  what's  what.  He's  a  square 
kid,  is  Red,  and  I'm  going  to  help  him  put  his  affairs 
in  order." 

And  then  making  himself  comfortable  as  he  pon 
dered  in  the  biggest  chair  in  the  well  furnished  living 
room,  he  sighed,  twisted  his  cigar  a  moment  thought 
fully,  sighed  again,  put  his  feet  on  the  table  and 
turned  to  the  pages  of  the  big  book.  His  fancy  was 


176  THE  SHORT  CUT 

caught  by  numerous  and  attractive  illustrations  in  a 
volume  dealing  with  the  mythology  of  the  ancients, 
and  he  was  soon  convinced  that  he  was  acquiring  a 
scholarly  knowledge  of  the  history  of  the  old  Greeks 
and  Romans. 

Wayne  Shandon  was  distinctly  surprised  the  next 
morning  as  he  entered  the  corral  to  encounter  Sledge 
Hume  sitting  a  sweating  horse  and  evidently  in 
wait  for  him. 

"You  were  looking  for  me?"  he  asked  shortly. 
The  last  time  he  had  spoken  to  Hume  was  to  quar 
rel  with  him,  and  to  be  drawn  into  hot  words  with 
Arthur  because  of  him.  He  made  no  pretence  at 
making  his  tone  more  than  coldly  civil. 

"  Yes,"  returned  the  other  as  bluntly.  "  I  rode 
over  from  old  man  Leland's  on  business." 

Shandon  frowned.  His  quick  thought  was  that 
Martin,  unwilling  to  communicate  personally  with 
him,  had  sent  this  envoy.  With  this  idea  in  mind  he 
said, 

"  If  Mr.  Lelarrd  has  any  business  with  me  — " 

Hume  laughed  his  short,  insolent  laugh. 

"  I  didn't  say  I  came  on  his  business,"  he  said. 
"  I  just  stayed  over  there  last  night  and  came  on  this 
morning,  early,  to  catch  you  before  you  left  the 
house.  It's  my  own  business,  Shandon.  I'm  not 
in  the  habit  of  taking  other  men's  worries  on  my 
shoulders." 

"What  is  it?" 

"  Just  this,"  coolly.     "  Whenever  I  hear  of  any 


SLEDGE  HUME  MAKES  A  CALL     177 

money  lying  around  loose  it's  as  good  as  mine  unless 
some  other  fellow  beats  me  to  it.  You  must  have 
done  a  whole  lot  of  talking;  anyway  word  has  gone 
all  over  the  country,  clean  down  to  my  place  and 
beyond,  that  you're  putting  on  a  horse  race.  How 
about  it?" 

"  I  don't  see  just  where  you  come  in?  " 

"  You  will  in  a  minute  if  you  care  to.  I  hear  the 
race  is  to  be  pulled  off  the  first  thing  in  the  spring, 
as  soon  as  the  snow's  gone?  How  about  it?  " 

"  Correct." 

"  You're  going  to  ride,  of  course?  " 

"  I  am." 

"Little  Saxon?" 

"  Yes." 

Hume  eased  himself  in  the  saddle  and  looked 
down  at  Shandon  keenly.  A  little  sneeringly  he 
demanded, 

"  What  are  you  going  to  make  it?  A  little  penny 
ante  game?  " 

Shandon  stared  at  him  curiously.  Hume  laughed 
again  under  his  gaze  and  said  arrogantly,  after  the 
born  manner  of  the  man, 

"  If  you'll  make  the  stakes  worth  a  man's  time 
I'll  make  you  hunt  your  hole,  Shandon." 

A  little  flush  crept  up  into  Shandon's  cheeks  and 
his  eyes  hardened.  It  would  be  so  easy  to  quarrel 
again  with  this  man;  the  very  sight  of  him, 
supremely  egotistical  and  contemptuous,  stirred  a 
natural  dislike  into  something  very  close  to  positive 


1 78  THE  SHORT  CUT 

hatred.  But  these  days  he  was  making  it  his  busi 
ness  to  hold  himself  in  check,  he  was  turning  his 
back  against  the  old  headlong  ways,  and  he  said 
quietly, 

"  Make  your  proposition.  I  see  you've  got  one 
to  make." 

"  I'll  ride  you  any  race  you  like,  anywhere  you 
like  and  at  any  time;  provided  it's  a  gentleman's 
game  and  not  penny  ante." 

"  Done,"  answered  Shandon  promptly.  Had  he 
refused  it  would  have  been  the  first  time  in  his  life 
he  had  refused  a  wager  offered  as  this  one  was. 
"  Name  the  sum  and  if  it's  anything  I  can  raise  I'm 
satisfied.  And,"  his  eyes  steely,  "  I'll  name  the  sort 
of  race!" 

"  Some  one  said  that  you  were  going  to  start 
things  with  a  purse  of  five  hundred,"  remarked1 
Hume.  "  I  don't  do  business  on  that  scale.  I'll 
lay  you  an  even  thousand." 

"  I'm  pretty  close  up  right  now,"  was  Shandon's 
answer.  "  I've  spent  a  good  bit  lately  and  I  don't 
want  to  sacrifice  any  more  cattle.  But  — " 

"  Oh,  well,"  laughed  Hume,  "  it  doesn't  make  any 
difference.  I  thought  that  you  might  have  a  little 
sporting  blood,  you  know.  You  must  have  done  a 
lot  of  talking,  Shandon." 

" —  but,"  Shandon  went  on,  his  voice  raised  to  cut 
into  the  other's  jibe,  "  I  can  sell  a  few  cows  if  neces 
sary.  And  while  I'm  doing  it  it  is  just  as  easy  to 
raise  five  thousand  as  one." 


SLEDGE  HUME  MAKES  A  CALL     179 

"  Oho!  "  cried  Hume.  "  Little  Saxon  is  proving 
up,  eh?" 

"  Little  Saxon  can  beat  his  brother  Endymion  any 
day  in  the  week  in  the  sort  of  race  we're  going  to 
run.  It's  going  to  be  ten  miles,  across  country, 
across  the  damndest  country  you  ever  saw,  Sledge 
Hume !  It's  going  to  be  a  distance  race  and  an  en 
durance  race.  And  since  it's  going  to  be  here  in  the 
West  it's  going  to  be  Western.  I  don't  care  if  you 
run  or  don't  run  and  I  don't  care  if  it  is  for  five  cents 
or  for  five  thousand  dollars." 

There  crept  into  Sledge  Hume's  cold  eyes  a  look 
of  such  shrewdness  that  Shandon  was  struck  by  it 
then,  and  remembered  it  long  afterward. 

'  When  I  go  into  a  deal,"  was  Hume's  swift  an 
swer,  "  it's  because  there's  something  in  it.  You  put 
up  your  five  thousand  if  you're  so  cocksure,  and  put 
it  up  now  and  I'll  cover  it!  With  one  thoroughly 
understood  provision,  Shandon.  The  man  who 
comes  in  first  at  the  end  of  that  ten  miles,  be  it  you 
or  me,  gets  the  money.  There's  going  to  be  no 
chance  to  get  cold  feet  and  pull  out.  If  you  don't 
ride  at  all,  if  you  get  scared  and  decide  to  get  sick 
or  break  a  leg  to  save  five  thousand,  I  ride  alone 
and  get  it  just  the  same.  Remember  I  didn't  ride 
over  this  morning  for  love  of  racing  or  for  love  of 
anything  else ;  I  saw  a  chance  for  some  money,  easy 
money." 

ic  Draw  up  an  agreement  to  that  effect,"  answered 
Shandon,  a  darkening  of  his  eyes  showing  that 


i8o  THE  SHORT  CUT 

Hume's  taunt  had  stung.  "  I'll  sign  it.  Find  a 
trustworthy  man  to  hold  stakes  and  I'll  put  up  my 
five  thousand  within  ten  days  after  you  put  yours  up. 
Is  that  satisfactory?  " 

Hume  answered  that  it  was,  and  named  two 
or  three  men  in  El  Toyon  as  possible  stake  holders. 
When  he  mentioned  Charlie  Granger,  proprietor  of 
the  El  Toyon  hotel,  Shandon  said  curtly, 

"  Charlie's  all  right.     He's  square." 

So  the  matter  was  decided  as  coolly,  and  appar 
ently  with  as  much  indifference,  as  if  it  had  been  a 
matter  of  no  particular  importance.  Hume  made 
no  pretence  of  desiring  to  continue  a  conversation 
that  would  be  a  mere  waste  of  time  and  words  now 
that  his  business  was  done,  and  swinging  his  horse 
about  raked  it  with  his  spurs  and  galloped  back 
toward  the  Echo  Creek.  Wayne  Shandon,  sud 
denly  a  little  thoughtful,  turned  and  went  to  the 
stable.  Little  Saxon  jerked  up  his  head  and  looked 
at  his  master  with  glaring,  untamed  eyes. 

"  WeVe  got  to  get  busy,  Little  Saxon,"  he  said, 
looking  with  critical  eyes  at  the  lithe,  powerful,  re 
bellious  body. 

"  Say,  Red !  Ain't  you  on  to  his  game?  "  Shan 
don  had  not  noticed  that  Willie  Dart  was  anywhere 
near,  but  was  hardly  surprised  when  the  little 
man  popped  up,  wild  eyed  and  excited.  "  Once  you 
get  your  cash  down  he's  going  to  put  you  out  of  the 
running!  That  guy'd  put  ground  glass  in  a  baby's 


SLEDGE  HUME  MAKES  A  CALL     181 

milk  bottle   for  the  price   of  a  beer.     Gee,    Red. 
You  sure  enough  do  need  a  keeper!  " 

Which  position  Willie  Dart  was  already  seeking 
manfully  to  fill. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

IN  WANDA'S  CAVE 

WILLIE  DART'S  sunny  nature  seemed  to 
grow  ever  brighter  as  the  days  wore  on. 
Once  or  twice  he  sighed  at  Wayne  Shan- 
don's  failure  to  respond  to  his  levities;  and  when 
he  felt  particularly  unappreciated  he  carried  his 
dimpling  personality  to  the  bunk  house  where 
he  was  hailed  with  delight.  When  a  flask  that 
had  come  in  with  Long  Steve,  who  had  made  a 
brief  trip  to  the  outer  world,  disappeared  before 
that  joyous  gentleman  had  consumed  half  of 
the  potent  contents,  and  when  later  the  empty  flask 
was  found  in  the  covers  of  Emmet's  bunk,  Willie 
Dart  looked  on  with  sorrowful,  innocent  eyes  while 
Steve  and  Emmet  resorted  to  physical  argument. 
When  a  game  of  crib  was  being  played  while  half  a 
dozen  men  looked  on,  and  a  portion  of  the  deck 
vanished,  only  to  turn  up  ten  minutes  later  in  the  hip 
pocket  of  Tony  Harris,  who  had  not^once  been  near 
the  table  and  was  most  thoroughly  mystified,  no  one 
thought  of  blaming  the  cheerful  Mr.  Dart.  It  was 
only  when  he  offered  privately  to  collect  for  Big  Bill 
a  debt  of  six  bits  long  owing  to  him  from  Dave  Platt 
that  the  real  gift  of  those  wonderful  hands  of  his 
began  to  be  at  all  apparent. 

182 


IN  WANDA'S  CAVE  183 

Then,  too,  the  method  of  his  progress  over  the 
range  was  another  source  of  unfailing  delight  and 
unbounded  admiration.  He  had  ridden  a  horse  to 
the  Bar  L-M,  but  no  man  of  them  ever  saw  his  little 
legs  astride  a  horse  again.  He  found,  back  of  the 
blacksmith  shop,  the  wreck  of  an  old  cart  which  years 
ago  had  been  used  for  breaking  colts;  he  improvised 
shafts  and  seat;  he  discovered  the  encouraging  fact 
that  Old  Bots,  a  shambling  derelict  who  had  lost  an 
eye  when  Wayne  Shandon  was  quite  young,  was 
gentle  and  trustworthy.  After  that,  wherever  he 
went  abroad,  and  he  travelled  all  over  the  country 
side,  he  rode  in  the  cart,  steering- Old  Bots  this  way 
and  that  with  much  shouting,  prodding  and  jerking 
of  reins.  And  he  drove  where  perhaps  no  man  had 
ever  driven  before.  His  smiling  confidence  in  Old 
Bots,  in  his  rattling,  creaking  old  cart,  in  his  own 
ability  as  a  driver  were  all  characteristic  of  his  joy 
ous  optimism. 

In  the  meantime  Wayne  Shandon  had  at  last  seen 
Wanda.  His  reasons  for  making  no  effort  to  see 
her  immediately  after  his  heated  interview  with 
Martin  Leland  were  clear  in  his  own  mind;  he  ex 
pected  to  find  that  they  had  been  equally  as  clear  to 
her,  and  that  she  would  have  understood.  But  the 
Wanda  he  found  one  riotously  brilliant  morning 
was  rather  cool,  distant,  unapproachable. 

He  had  ridden  up  on  the  cliffs  which  towered  at 
the  upper  end  of  the  Echo  Creek  ranch,  from  which 
he  could  look  down  the  valley  and  see  her  when  she 


1 84  THE  SHORT  CUT 

left  the  house,  as  he  felt  confident  that  she  would. 
He  saw  her  when  it  was  not  yet  nine  o'clock.  She 
was  riding  out  across  the  valley  toward  the  cliffs  op 
posite  at  the  north  end  of  the  valley,  toward  the  cave 
she  had  found  there.  Shandon  marked  the  course 
she  was  taking,  swung  his  horse  across  a  ridge  and 
hastened  to  the  meeting  with  her.  He  came  upon 
her  as  she  dismounted  near  the  big  cedar  against  the 
rocks. 

"  Wanda!"  he  called  softly. 

She  turned  toward  him,  her  face  paler,  he 
thought,  than  it  should  be.  He  slipped  from  the 
saddle  and  came  swiftly  toward  her,  his  eyes  shining, 
his  arms  out.  Then  she  raised  her  hand,  stopping 
him. 

"  Good  morning,  Wayne,"  she  said  quietly. 

"  Wanda,"  he  cried,  a  little  perplexed.  "  What 
is  it?  Aren't  you  glad  to  see  me?  " 

She  smiled,  put  down  the  parcel  she  had  been  car 
rying,  and  perched  upon  a  big  broken  boulder  forc 
ing  her  eyes  to  look  merrily  into  his.  And  what 
she  read  in  his  look  sent  a  quick,  glad  flutter  into 
her  heart.  But  she  did  not  let  him  know  it. 

"  Glad  to  see  you?  "  she  replied  gaily.  ;t  Why, 
of  course  I  am.  But,"  teasingly,  a  little  cruelly, 
"  aren't  you  the  least  bit  afraid?  " 

"  Afraid  of  what?  "  he  asked  blankly. 

"  Of  papa !  "  she  retorted,  her  dimples  playing 
because  she  meant  to  look  as  though  she  was  quite  a 
heart  whole  maiden,  and  because  the  very  ring  of 


IN  WANDA'S  CAVE  185 

his  earnest  voice  swept  away  all  the  uncertainty  that 
had  come  to  her  during  these  last  days  of  waiting. 
"  You  are  on  his  land,  you  know." 

"  Surely  you  don't  imagine  — "  he  began. 

She  laughed  lightly. 

"  My  dear  Wayne,  how  should  I  know?  " 

"  I  don't  understand  you,  Wanda,"  he  said  a  little 
stiffly.  "After  what  happened  the  other  day — " 

In  spite  of  her  a  little  glowing  colour  ran  up  into 
her  cheeks. 

"  Goodness,"  she  exclaimed,  persisting  in  the  part 
she  had  vowed  many  times  a  day  she  would  play  for 
him,  "haven't  you  forgotten  that?  Really,  after 
you'd  had  time  to  think  about  it  didn't  you  have  to 
laugh?  Weren't  we  a  couple  of  precious  kidlets?  " 

For  a  moment  he  stared  at  her  as  though  dazed. 
This  was  a  Wanda  he  had  never  seen  before;  he 
did  not  know  what  to  make  of  her.  And  then  sud 
denly  he  put  his  head  back,  the  gladness  that  had 
sung  in  his  heart  when  first  he  rode  to  meet  her 
surged  back  and  he  laughed  the  great,  deep,  happy 
laugh  the  girl  knew  so  well. 

u  You  little  witch !  "  he  cried  gaily,  as  gaily  as 
Wanda  had  spoken  at  first  and  more  genuinely  so. 
"  You've  just  set  out  to  plague  me.  And  I'll  show 
you  how  I  treat  little  girls  who  tease!  " 

Without  more  ado  he  came  close  to  the  rock  upon 
which  she  sat  looking  down  at  him  with  demure  eyes, 
swept  her  off  into  his  arms  and  kissed  her  before  he 
put  her  down. 


1 86  THE  SHORT  CUT 

"  Now,  Wanda  Witch,"  he  said  softly,  his  eyes 
laughing  into  hers.  "Are  you  sorry?  And  do 
you  love  me  so  hard  it  almost  hurts?  " 

"  So,"  she  said  when  at  last  he  released  her,  not 
certain  in  her  heart  that  she  had  held  out  quite  long 
enough,  "  that  is  the  way  you  treat  little  girls  who 
tease,  is  it?  All  little  girls  who  tease?  The 
'  Roosian '  princess,  for  instance?  " 

"  The  what?  "  he  demanded,  having  for  the  mo 
ment  forgotten  Dart's  wild  tale. 

"  Helga,"  she  told  him  quite  as  seriously  as  she 
could,  rearranging  her  disturbed  hair  and  meanwhile 
looking  up  at  him  with  eyes  that  were  beginning  to 
defy  her  and  smile. 

As  he  remembered,  as  he  thought  of  the  things 
Dart  had  told  her  to  "  boost  his  game  "  he  became 
for  one  of  the  rare  times  in  his  life  just  a  trifle  em 
barrassed.  She  must  think  him  a  fool  for  letting 
that  little  cur  yap  all  kind  of  nonsense  into  her  ears, 
or  the  ears  of  any  one  who  would  listen.  He 
flushed  under  her  teasing  eyes. 

"  I'm  going  to  wring  Willie  Dart's  little  neck  the 
first  thing  when  I  get  home,"  he  said.  "  Look  here, 
Wanda  — " 

"  Oho !  "  Her  brows  lifted  and  she  looked  at 
him  speculatively.  "  So  there  really  is  a  Helga,  is 
there?" 

But  he  was  laughing  again,  again  threatening  to 
kiss  her  adorable  red  mouth  if  she  did  not  behave 
and  tell  him  all  about  herself. 


IN  WANDA'S  CAVE  187 

"  If  you  had  really  wanted  to  know  couldn't  you 
have  ridden  over  sooner?  "  she  asked. 

Then  he  told  her  why  he  had  stayed  away,  how 
he  had  wanted  to  see  her  every  day,  how  he  had 
thought  that  she  would  understand. 

"  Your  father  forbade  me  the  ranch,"  he  re 
minded  her.  u  At  first  I  thought  that  it  would  be 
impossible  for  me  to  bring  myself  to  set  foot  upon 
property  belonging  to  him.  I  thought  of  sending 
word  to  you  by  Garth,  by  Dart  even,  asking  you  to 
meet  me  somewhere,  anywhere  that  I  would  not  be 
trespassing.  And,  dear,  even  before  I  would  ask 
you  to  meet  me,  if  you  still  cared!  "  with  mock  se 
riousness,  "  I  wanted  time  to  fight  things  out  with 
myself,  a  few  days  in  which  to  see  if  there  was  not 
some  way  out  better  than  this  one.  I  hoped,  even, 
that  your  father  would  change  his  mind,  that  he 
would  be  fair  with  me  as  it  is  his  way  to  be.  And 
then  at  last,  when  I  could  not  wait  any  longer,  I 
came.  And  now,  my  Wanda  Witch,  I  am  going 
to  stay  until  you  come  and  put  both  arms  around  my 
neck  and  admit  that  you  love  me  so  hard  that 
you've  been  perfectly  miserable  since  you  saw  me !  " 

"  And  Helga?  "  she  insisted  lightly  but  with  just 
a  hint  of  curiosity. 

"  If  you  go  on  that  way  much  more,"  he  assured 
her,  "I'll  say,  'Damn  Helga!'  Tell  me  about 
yourself." 

There  was  much  to  tell  and  it  came  at  last  as  they 
sat  together  under  the  cedar,  oblivious  of  the  world 


1 88  THE  SHORT  CUT 

about  them,  careless  of  what  might  lie  in  the  future 
for  them.  There  was  the  story  of  her  rides,  the 
murder  of  a  bear  cub,  the  meeting  with  Willie  Dart, 
and  — 

"  And,  first  of  all,"  she  cried  triumphantly,  "  the 
discovery  of  a  wonderful  secret." 

She  refused  to  tell  him  what  it  was  until  he  obeyed 
her  bidding.  She  sent  him  scouting  to  see  that  no 
human  eye  could  spy  upon  them,  and  then  she  sent 
him  climbing  the  cedar. 

"  What's  this?  "  he  rebelled.  "  At  least  tell  me 
whether  I'm  supposed  to  gather  an  armful  of  clouds 
or  wait  until  dark  and  bring  down  some  stars." 

"  Go  straight  up  until  I  tell  you  to  stop,"  she 
laughed.  "  And  be  sure  you  don't  fall." 

"  Would  you  care  very  much,  Wanda?  "  he  asked 
loverlike  and  foolishly. 

"  I  should,"  she  informed  him,  her  eyes  twinkling. 
"  For  I  shall  be  climbing  right  under  you." 

"  Oh,  I  know,  then.     We're  going  to  heaven." 

And  up  he  went.  Laughing,  calling  back  and  for 
ward  like  two  children,  their  hearts  gay  and  sur 
charged  with  something  sweeter  than  mere  gaiety, 
they  made  their  way  steadily,  he  always  above,  she 
just  below  him  and  carrying  the  parcel  done  up  in 
a  newspaper. 

"You  might  at  least  let  me  carry  our  baggage 
upon  our  journey,"  he  offered  more  than  once.  But 
she  insisted  that  this  too  was  a  part  of  the  secret. 

At  last  he  came  to  the  limb  that  lay  out  across  the 


IN  WANDA'S  CAVE  189 

ledge  of  rock  and  would  have  kept  on  climbing,  he 
was  so  busy  looking  down  at  the  rosy  face  that  was 
looking  up  at  him.  But  she  commanded  him  to  use 
his  eyes  for  something  else  than  just  to  make  love 
with,  and  he  understood. 

"You  mean  to  say  you've  been  up  here  before? 
That  you've  gone  out  across  that  sort  of  a  bridge?  " 
he  exclaimed  in  amazement.  "  Aren't  you  afraid 
of  anything  in  the  world,  Wanda?  " 

"  Yes,"  she  answered.  "  Yes,  to  both  questions. 
I'm  inclined  to  be  afraid  of  spiders;  I  think  that 
I'd  be  afraid  of  an  alligator.  And  now  the  se 
cret!" 

"  A  cave,"  he  cried.  "  Way  up  here !  How  in 
the  world  did  you  happen  to  find  it?  " 

When  he  had  crossed  first  and  given  his  hand  to 
her  she  came  swiftly  to  his  side,  thanked  him  with 
a  nod  and  set  him  to  work. 

"  This  is  my  own  private  estate,"  she  told  him. 
"  No  one  enters  my  portals  until  he  has  been  invited. 
You  are  not  invited  yet.  In  that  seam  in  the  rock 
you  will  find  plenty  of  wood  and  dry  cones.  If 
you'll  put  them  at  the  doorway  I'll  let  you  know 
when  you  can  come  in.  And,  Wayne ; — " 

"Yes?" 

"  No  one  knows  of  this  place  except  we  two. 
Keep  behind  the  cedar,  won't  you,  so  that  if  any  one 
should  be  about  you  won't  be  seen?  " 

Wayne  gathered  great  armfuls  of  wood,  piled 
cones  conveniently,  and  in  the  meantime  got  no 


190  THE  SHORT  CUT 

single  glimpse  of  the  interior  of  the  cavern.  For 
Wanda  had  slipped  within,  had  drawn  over  the  wide 
opening  the  screen  of  branches  her  own  hands  had 
made  against  the  occasion,  and  was  completely  hid 
den  by  that  and  the  curtain  which  reinforced  it 
against  a  ray  of  light.  He  could  hear  her  singing 
softly,  happily  as  she  went  back  and  forth.  At  last 
her  voice  came  to  him,  calling  merrily. 

"  You  may  come  in,  Mr.  Shandon.  Don't  bring 
the  wood  with  you  yet;  just  come  to  look  and 
admire." 

He  thrust  aside  the  screen,  stepped  through  and 
his  short  exclamation  amply  repaid  her  for  the  many 
hours  of  preparation. 

A  dozen  tall  candles  burned  here  and  there,  set 
into  niches  in  the  rough  walls,  gummed  in  their  own 
grease  to  knobs  of  stone,  their  pointed  flames  stand 
ing  still  like  fairy  spear  blades  menacing  the  shadows 
which  still  clung  to  the  lofty  ceiling.  Giving  added 
light  was  a  blazing  fire  of  pine  cones  at  the  far  side 
of  the  cave,  near  the  mouth  of  the  passage  leading 
to  the  cleft  where  the  water  shot  down.  Strewn 
across  the  whole  floor,  masking  its  rough  surface, 
were  pine  needles  which,  while  they  made  a  thick 
mat  underfoot,  filled  the  cave  with  their  resinous 
tang.  And  there  was  another  odour,  agreeable, 
homelike.  Shandon  looked  again  at  the  fire;  set 
on  each  side  of  a  bed  of  coals  were  two  flat  stones, 
perched  on  the  stones  a  battered,  blackened  old 
coffee  pot. 


IN  WANDA'S  CAVE  191 

"  I  tailed  you  a  witch,  didn't  I,  Wanda?  " 

"  You  might  at  least  have  called  me  a  Fairy,"  she 
retorted,  her  eyes  bright  with  the  joy  of  a  day-dream 
come  true. 

"  Did  you  conjure  this  out  of  a  broken  eggshell 
with  a  wand?  Is  this  how  you  got  your  name, 
Wanda?" 

She  took  him  on  a  tour  of  exploration,  pointing 
out  each  little  thing  which  she  had  already  seen 
alone,  which,  when  she  had  seen  it  had  promised  her 
a  day  like  to-day  when  she  could  show  it  to  him. 
They  went  down  the  sloping  passageway  and  stood 
for  a  little  while  silently  before  the  chasm  with  its 
din  of  falling  waters.  They  speculated  upon  what 
might  lie  upon  the  farther  side  if  a  man  could  cross. 
They  came  back  to  the  fire  and  Wayne  was  shown 
how  the  air  drew  through  the  cave  so  that  the  pas 
sageway  at  the  back  gave  exit  to  the  smoke.  They 
had  just  a  peep,  for  Wanda  would  allow  him  no 
more  now,  into  a  hidden  recess  not  five  steps  from 
her  fireplace  where  there  were  mysterious  packages 
hinting  that  they  might  be  bacon  and  butter  and 
sugar  and  coffee.  And  then  they  came  back  to  the 
screened  entrance  and  stepped  outside.  Wanda 
held  up  her  field  glasses  to  him. 

"  Look  out  that  way,"  she  ordered  him.  "  No, 
Goosy.  Not  at  the  trunk  of  the  tree.  Between 
those  two  branches  yonder.  What  do  you  see?  " 

He  adjusted  the  glasses  while  she  watched  his 
face.  And  he  found  the  clearing  about  the  Bar 


192  THE  SHORT  CUT 

L-M  headquarters,  the  buildings  themselves  set 
upon  the  knoll. 

"It's  wonderful,"  he  cried.  "Why,  we  could 
signal  — " 

"  Wait  a  minute,"  she  interrupted  brightly. 
"'  This  isn't  your  discovery,  not  a  bit  of  it.  It's  all 
mine  and  I'm  jealous  of  it.  And  I've  thought  it 
all  out.  Now,  if  you'll  come  inside  we'll  have  a 
cup  of  coffee  and  a  sandwich  which  you'll  eat  politely 
just  as  though  you  were  hungry." 

"I'm  starved!" 

**  And  I'll  tell  you  my  invention.  First,  though, 
while  I  serve  luncheon  you  can  be  the  hired  man  and 
bring  in  all  your  wood.  I'm  perfectly  willing  to  be 
cook  but  I  refuse  to  get  my  wood  any  longer." 

When  he  had  completed  his  task  he  came  to  her. 
She  had  poured  two  tin  cups  of  coffee,  sweetened  and 
cooled  with  condensed  milk,  and  upon  a  clean  piece 
of  bark  served  her  sandwiches.  And  they  sat  on 
the  floor  upon  heaped-up  pine  needles  and  she  told 
him  her  plan. 

There  was  an  old  spy  glass  at  the  Bar  L-M, 
wasn't  there  ?  All  right.  Then  his  first  duty  when 
he  got  back  home  would  be  to  spend  a  patient  time 
locating  with  it  her  cedar  and  the  cliffs  back  of  it. 
To-morrow  morning,  early,  she  would  be  here  — 
no,  no.  Not  in  the  cave  nor  even  upon  the  ledge 
outside;  they  must  guard  so  carefully  against  their 
secret  being  lost;  but  upon  the  big  boulder  at  the 
top  of  the  cliff.  She  would  have  her  field  glasses. 


IN  WANDA'S  CAVE  193 

He  could  step  out  upon  the  front  porch  at  the  Bar 
L— M,  and  if  any  of  the  boys  were  about  he  could 
pretend  to  be  looking  idly  at  a  herd  of  cows  some 
where,  or  at  a  hawk  or  at  anything  but  at  her. 
They  could  see  each  other  quite  distinctly. 

"  If  it  wasn't  so  far  we  could  talk  on  our 
fingers!" 

"  Do  I  have  to  remind  you  again  that  this  is  my 
discovery,  my  invention?" 

She  tried  so  charmingly  to  be  severe,  and  failed 
so  delightfully  that  he  assured  her  he  was  going  to 
put  down  his  coffee  cup  and  come  over  and  kiss  her. 
But  when  she  threatened  that  if  he  misbehaved  she 
would  not  stir  out  of  the  house  again  for  a  week  he 
sighed  and  finished  his  coffee  and  listened  obediently. 

"  Suppose,"  she  went  on,  "  that  you  stood  very 
still  on  your  porch,  both  hands  holding  your  spy 
glass?  That  would  mean  one  thing.  Suppose  you 
leaned  lazily  against  the  door  post?  That  would 
mean  another.  If  you  came  down  the  steps,  if  you 
took  off  your  hat,  if  you  put  on  your  hat,  if  you  sat 
down  on  the  bench,  if  you  turned  your  back  to  me, 
if  you  lifted  both  arms  above  your  head  as  if  you 
were  yawning  and  stretching,  if  you  stooped  to  pick 
up  something,  if  you  stooped  once,  walked  five  steps 
and  stooped  again  —  don't  you  see  that  even  with 
your  whole  outfit  looking  on  we  can  say  '  Good 
morning,'  and  *  Good  night,'  and  anything  else  we 
choose  to  say?  Isn't  it  splendid?" 

For  an  hour  they  worked  on  what  Wayne  termed 


i94  THE  SHORT  CUT 

the  Wanda-code.  She  had  a  pencil  and  tiny  mem 
orandum  book  and  they  made  duplicate  copies  of 
their  code  of  signals  as  they  worked  them  out. 
Thus: 

/.  Standing  straight,  both  hands  up  —  /  love  you, 
dear,  with  my  whole  heart.  ( That  was  Wayne* 's 
contribution  to  the  code,  and  he  insisted  that  it  be 
number  one  in  the  book.) 

2.  Leaning  against  a  tree  or  post  —  /  must  see 
you  immediately. 

3.  Removing  hat  —  Be  careful.     We  are  being 
watched. 

4.  Turning  back  —  Something  has  happened  to 
prevent  our  meeting  to-day. 

5.  Stooping  once  —  That's  all.     Good  bye. 

And  so  on  until  there  were  no  less  than  two  dozen 
signals  each  with  its  meaning,  each  to  carry  across 
the  miles  a  lover's  message. 

They  agreed  upon  the  exact  time  when  every  day 
their  love  would  laugh  at  the  miles  separating  them; 
an  early  hour  when  they  had  waited  just  long  enough 
to  give  Wanda  time  to  ride  hither  and  the  Bar  L-M 
men  time  to  have  gone  about  the  day's  work.  And 
if  Wayne  were  not  upon  his  porch  then  Wanda  was 
to  understand  that  he  was  already  riding  to  meet  her. 

"  But  your  mother,"  he  said.  "  Doesn't  she 
often  go  with  you?  " 

"  Not  when  I  want  to  be  alone,"  Wanda  smiled 
back  at  him.  "  Mamma  knows,  Wayne." 


IN  WANDA'S  CAVE  195 

"  You  have  told  her?     Your  father  told  her?  " 

"  It  isn't  something  that  papa  talks  about,  dear. 
I  told.  And,  Wayne  — " 

Suddenly  they  ceased  to  be  children  playing  and 
became  very  serious.  For  while  the  love  brimming 
their  young  hearts  had  been  like  a  fountain  from 
which  laughter  bubbled  up,  still  its  song  had  not 
deafened  their  ears  to  the  murmur  of  life  about 
them.  There  were  things  to  be  told  each  other, 
questions  to  ask  and  answer,  their  own  future  to 
look  soberly  in  the  face. 

Day  after  day  Shandon  had  looked  for  word  from 
Martin  Leland,  had  counted  on  receiving  from  him 
an  offer  for  the  water  to  be  employed  in  bringing 
fertility  to  Dry  Valley.  He  told  her  of  Ruf  Et- 
tinger  and  his  counter  scheme,  how  close  he  had 
come  to  being  drawn  into  it;  he  wondered  if  some 
thing  had  happened  to  cause  Leland  and  Hume 
to  give  up  their  proposition. 

No,  whatever  this  proposition  was  they  had  not 
given  it  up,  Wanda  was  sure  of  that.  Her  father 
was  away  much  of  the  time;  she  knew  that  he  had 
been  often  in  Dry  Valley,  that  he  had  had  some  sort 
of  dealings  with  Ruf  Ettinger.  She  had  heard  him 
say  to  her  mother  last  night  that  the  man  was  a  hog, 
that  when  offered  an  unheard  of  price  for  his  land 
he  had  held  out  for  something  still  better,  and  that 
Leland  had  broken  off  negotiations  with  him  en 
tirely.  Yes,  it  must  be  the  same  proposition  about 
which  Ettinger  had  gone  to  Shandon.  Strange  that 


196  THE  SHORT  CUT 

Garth  had  not  told  him  anything.  She  knew  that 
Garth  regularly  met  her  father  and  Sledge  Hume; 
she  knew  that  whatever  the  business  was  that  had 
drawn  Leland  and  Hume  together  had  drawn  Con- 
way  into  it  also. 

That  matter  finally  disposed  of,  left  with  the 
unsatisfactory  conclusion  that  Garth  had  his  own 
reasons  for  remaining  silent,  and  that  Shandon 
would  soon  hear  from  Leland,  Wanda  broached  the 
other  subject  which  had  all  along  been  the  one  cloud 
upon  her  happiness.  Driven  to  the  rim  of  her  mind 
by  her  gayer  moods  it  was  still  there,  sinister  and 
black  upon  the  horizon. 

"  I  should  have  told  you  the  other  day,"  she  said 
slowly,  "  the  day  when  we  found  so  much  else  to 
talk  of.  You  will  understand  why  papa  has  refused 
to  let  you  come  to  the  house." 

"  What  is  it,  Wanda?  "  he  asked  eagerly,  hoping 
there  would  be  a  direct  charge  so  that  he  might 
vindicate  himself. 

"  Have  you  no  idea,  Wayne?"  a  little  curiously. 
"  Have  you  never  had  a  suspicion  of  the  reason  that 
makes  papa  hate  you  so?" 

"  He  disliked  my  father  — " 

"  It  is  not  that.  Maybe  that  makes  him  the  more 
ready  to  suspect  you — "  And  then  she  blurted  it 
out,  a  little  defiantly,  laying  her  hand  softly  upon 
his  arm.  "  He  thinks,  he  has  thought  all  along, 
that  you  killed  Arthur!  " 

He  stared  at  her  gravely,  the  shock  of  such  a 


IN  WANDA'S  CAVE  197 

charge  too  great  to  be  appreciated  to  its  fullest 
extent  in  a  moment. 

"He  thinks  that  I  killed  Arthur ?"  he  repeated 
incredulously.  And  then,  bitterly,  "  My  God, 
Wanda.  This  is  too  horrible." 

"  Listen,  Wayne.  We  must  talk  this  over  calmly 
and  see  what  is  to  be  done.  You  see  papa  has  dis 
liked  you  because  he  hated  your  father.  Oh,  it's 
unjust  but  it's  so  human!  He  has  believed  all  the 
hard  things  men  have  said  of  you  and  they  have 
said  many.  He  knows  that  the  day  before  Arthur 
was  killed  you  and  he  quarrelled,  pfhen  you  went 
away,  you  were  gone  a  year  and  he  didn't  think  that 
you  would  ever  come  back.  You  came  back,  you 
made  me  love  you.  Believing  as  he  did,  papa  did 
the  natural  thing  when  he  refused  to  let  you  come 
again." 

"  He  had  no  right  to  believe  it,"  he  cried  angrily. 
"  I  shall  tell  him  so.  I  shall  make  him  tell  me  of 
a  single  thread  of  the  wildest  circumstantial  evidence 
to  point  to  this  hideous  thing!  " 

"  It  will  do  no  good,"  she  said  simply.  "  Noth 
ing  in  the  world  can  be  done  unless  —  oh,  I  have 
thought  so  much  about  this,  Wayne  —  unless  the 
real  murderer  can  be  found.  Surely  if  you  offered 
rewards,  if  you  hired  detectives,  if  you  talked  with 
MacKelvey— " 

;'  Wanda,"  he  interrupted,  his  voice  at  once  stern 
and  troubled.  "  Do  you  remember  when  you  gave 
me  the  revolver  that  morning?  I  didn't  explain  to 


198  THE  SHORT  CUT 

you,  even  you.  I  couldn't.  If  I  went  away  and 
stayed  so  long,  if  I  didn't  remain  here  doing  the 
thing  you  suggest,  offering  rewards,  hiring  detectives 
to  hunt  his  murderer  down,  couldn't  you  guess  why? 
You  found  the  revolver  that  killed  him." 

"  Wayne !  " 

"  And  the  day  Arthur  and  I  rode  into  El  Toyon 
I  gave  the  thing  to  him.  It  was  his  own  then.  He 
shot  himself.  God  knows  why.  I  should  have 
spoken  then,  I  should  have  told  MacKelvey,  your 
father,  every  one.  But  I  hated  to,  I  hated  the 
thought  of  it,  of  having  people  know  that  Arthur 
had  committed  suicide,  of  having  men  talk  of  it.  I 
thought  that  there  would  be  investigations,  of  course, 
but  that  they  would  die  down.  I  knew  that  no  man 
would  be  accused;  it  was  my  secret.  I  would  keep 
it  for  Arthur's  sake." 

He  broke  off  sharply,  moved  strongly  by  his  own 
words  that  conjured  up  something  he  had  striven 
manfully  to  shut  out  of  his  mind,  strongly  moving 
the  girl  who  heard  him.  She  watched  him  with 
piteous,  sad  eyes  while  he  strode  up  and  down,  back 
and  forth  in  the  candle  lighted  cave.  Suddenly  he 
stopped,  exclaiming  bitterly, 

"Your  father  thinks  this  of  me.  Who  else? 
Does  half  the  countryside  believe  me  a  murderer? 
Does  Garth  believe  it?  Does  Hume?  Does  your 
mother?  " 

"  I  don't  know  what  Garth  and  Sledge  Hume 
think,"  she  answered.  "  I  do  know  about  mamma. 


IN  WANDA'S  CAVE  199 

Wayne,  even  she  was  afraid  at  first,  even  mamma. 
But  she  knows  you  too  well,  dear.  She  says  that 
you  are  the  other  Wayne  Shandon,  over  and  over; 
that  you  may  have  been  a  spendthrift  and  a  brawler, 
—  forgive  me, —  dear,  but  that  you  have  always 
been  an  honest  and  manly  man.  She  knows  that  we 
love  each  other,  Wayne.  She  knows  that  I  have  ex 
pected  to  see  you.  Isn't  that  enough?  " 

"  Next  to  you,  Wanda,  she  is  the  sweetest  woman 
in  the  world."  He  took  the  girl's  hands  in  his  and 
stood  looking  down  at  her  gravely.  "  And  you, 
you  have  never  been  afraid?  You  recognised  the 
revolver,  you  brought  it  to  me.  Are  you  very 


sure  — " 


"  Kiss  me,  Wayne,"  she  said  for  answer. 

And  yet,  when  they  parted  lingeringly,  the  little 
cloud  was  still  upon  the  horizon,  the  uneasy  feeling 
of  uncertainty  upon  them.  If,  at  this  late  hour,  he 
went  to  the  sheriff  and  told  the  truth,  what  would 
be  the  result?  Would  it  sound  like  the  truth  to 
MacKelvey?  To  Martin  Leland? 


CHAPTER  XV 

WILLIE   DART   PICKS   A   LOCK 

r  I  "^HE  summer  sped  by  like  one  long  golden  day 
I  under  its  rare  blue  sky;  yet  always  upon  the 

-•-  horizon  was  that  single  black  cloud.  Not 
until  summer  had  gone  its  bright  way  and  winter  had 
come,  locked  the  mountain  passes  and  departed  again 
was  the  way  to  be  made  clear. 

If  Wayne  Shandon  could  have  had  the  oppor 
tunity  to  act  at  once  when  Wanda  told  him  the 
reason  of  her  father's  open  enmity  he  would  have 
gone  immediately  in  his  headlong  way  to  MacKel- 
vey.  He  would  have  told  the  sheriff  his  own  ver 
sion  of  the  tragedy;  he  would  have  recounted  the 
finding  of  the  revolver  by  Wanda,  her  giving  it  to 
him,  his  certainty  that  Arthur  had  taken  his  own 
life.  But  having  promised  Wanda  to  do  nothing 
rashly,  without  again  talking  with  her,  having 
pondered  deeply  as  he  rode  back  to  the  Bar  L— M 
and  during  the  days  which  followed,  he  came 
to  see  sanely  that  for  his  own  sake  and  for  the  sake 
of  the  girl  he  loved  it  would  be  better  if  he  held  his 
peace  until  time  and  thought  brought  clear  vision. 

He  was  already  suspected  by  Martin  Leland,  per 
haps  by  MacKelvey  himself,  perhaps  by  many  men 
among  whom  he  came  and  went.  Would  the  .story 

200 


WILLIE  DART  PICKS  A  LOCK      201 

he  had  to  tell  lessen  suspicion  in  any  single  breast? 
Would  it  not  rather  give  the  sheriff  just  such  a  bit 
of  evidence  as  he  had  long  been  seeking? 

Much  alike  in  one  great  essential  Wayne  Shan- 
don  and  Wanda  Leland  had  hearts  that  were  tuned 
to  happiness.  To  such  people  it  is  easier  to  be  gay 
than  sad;  the  trouble,  stern  as  it  was,  that  had 
entered  their  lives  so  early  was  less  than  the  bright 
ness  which  dissipated  all  other  troubles  but  that  one. 
Good  fortune  had  disclosed  to  them  a  meeting  place 
as  high  as  the  waving  treetops  where  no  one's 
curious  eye  would  penetrate;  they  could  converse 
across  the  miles  almost  as  people  may  call  across  a 
street;  they  could  be  together  two  or  three  times  a 
week  without  their  world  knowing.  These  things 
gave  wings  to  the  summer. 

They  were  busy  days,  clad  in  action,  crowned  with 
dreamings.  Wanda's  cave  became  a  dainty  bower 
for  a  fair  lady.  Across  the  cliffs,  by  tortuous  trail, 
it  was  a  scant  five  miles  to  the  little  mountain  town 
of  White  Rock.  Many  a  dim  morning  before  the 
shadows  lifted  to  the  rising  sun  the  trail  had  echoed 
to  the  clanging  hoofs  of  Shandon's  horse  as  he  rode 
down  and  back,  bringing  a  surprise  for  Wanda.  A 
packhorse  had  brought  in  supplies,  bought  in  Shan 
don's  own  reckless  way,  which  when  piled  high 
against  the  rock  walls  made  Wanda  gasp  and  ask 
him  if  he  thought  that  she  was  going  to  take  in 
boarders.  There  were  camp  stools,  there  were  rugs. 
A  tiny  sheetiron  camp  stove  came  one  day,  and  when 


202  THE  SHORT  CUT 

iWanda  put  her  rosy  face  through  the  screen  that 
Wayne  had  substituted  for  her  old  one,  her  nostrils 
were  assailed  by  the  odours  of  boiling  coffee,  frying 
bacon,  sizzling  apples  and  burning  bread. 

There  were  strings  of  onions,  and  potatoes  pop 
ping  out  of  their  bag  before  the  summer  died;  a 
side  of  bacon  swung  against  a  ham  where  Wayne 
had  driven  a  dead  branch  into  a  crevice  in  the  rocks; 
there  was  a  table  he  had  constructed  rudely  but 
securely;  there  were  books  on  it;  there  were  candles 
burning  everywhere. 

"  Because,"  he  had  laughed  at  her  surprise,  "  win 
ter  will  come  one  of  these  days,  and  do  you  think 
that  I'm  not  going  to  see  you  until  it's  gone  again? 
Oh,  I  suppose  I'll  have  to  be  down  at  the  lower  pas 
tures  with  the  stock,  but  I'll  get  up  here  now  and 
again.  [Then  when  a  fine  day  comes  and  you  want  a 
long  ski  ride,  you'll  know  where  to  come,  won't  you, 
Wanda  ?  Where  a  hot  luncheon  will  be  waiting  for 
you?  And,  who  knows,"  he  whispered,  "maybe 
we'll  spend  our  honeymoon  here  sometime !  " 

Shandon  at  first  had  thought  of  going  to  Garth 
Conway,  of  asking  him  frankly  what  the  deal  was 
in  which  he  and  Sledge  Hume  and  Mr.  Leland  were 
interested,  and  if  they  were  counting  upon  needing 
the  Bar  L-M  water  as  Ruf  Ettinger  had  told  him 
they  were.  But  in  this  matter  also  had  he  altered 
his  first  quick  decision.  He  had  always  liked  Con- 
way,  at  least,  without  thinking  a  great  deal  about 
it  he  supposed  he  had,  for  the  very  simple  reason 


WILLIE  DART  PICKS  A  LOCK      203 

that  they  were  cousins  and  had,  in  a  way,  grown  up 
together.  But  on  the  other  hand  they  were  men 
essentially  unlike,  in  no  respect  congenial.  They 
had  never  been  confidential;  were  they  the  only 
two  men  in  the  world  it  is  doubtful  if  one  would 
have  carried  his  personal  thoughts  and  emotions  to 
the  other.  That  little  reserve  which  had  always 
existed,  scarcely  noted  by  Wayne  Shandon,  was  sud 
denly  a  wall  between  them.  This  was  Conway's 
business;  if  he  chose  to  keep  it  his  secret  from  his 
cousin,  Wayne  Shandon  was  not  the  man  to  ask  him 
to  talk  about  it. 

Moreover,  perhaps  even  more  important  now 
than  that  consideration,  there  was  another.  Leland 
and  Hume  had  at  least  been  upon  the  point  of  going 
into  this  matter  just  before  Arthur's  death,  and  they 
had  taken  Arthur  into  their  confidence.  Perhaps 
he  was  to  have  been  one  of  their  corporation  when 
one  was  formed.  Now  that  Wayne  owned  the  Bar 
L-M  and  the  water,  the  logical  thing  for  them  to 
do  was  to  come  to  him.  They  had  brought  Garth 
into  the  circle  of  their  endeavour;  they  had  ignored 
Shandon.  A  little  hurt  at  the  obvious  significance  of 
this  Shandon  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  resolved 
that  when  the  first  word  was  spoken  it  would  not 
be  by  himself. 

And  soon  he  came  close  to  forgetting  it.  [The 
incentive  to  bestir  himself  had  at  last  come  into  his 
life  and  he  was  not  loitering.  Little  by  little, 
through  long  talks  with  Garth,  with  Big  Bill  and 


204  THE  SHORT  CUT 

other  men  of  his  outfit,  he  came  to  have  a  grasp 
upon  the  work  which  should  have  been  his  a  year 
before,  and  an  interest  in  it.  Only  now  for  the  first 
time  did  he  take  the  trouble  to  learn  the  real  mean 
ing  of  resources  and  liabilities;  to  estimate  profit  and 
loss;  to  speculate  upon  success  in  the  business  which 
he  found  rather  larger  than  he  had  suspected.  He 
called  a  round-up  to  learn  to  the  head  how  many 
steers  and  cows  and  calves  carried  the  Bar  L— M 
brand.  He  brought  a  quick  look  of  surprise  that 
was  close  to  suspicion  into  Garth's  eyes  by  asking 
casually  just  what  sums  had  been  taken  in  during 
the  last  year  by  sales  of  beef,  how  the  money  had 
been  reinvested,  if  there  was  a  surplus  in  the  bank. 
He  went  into  the  matter  of  the  wages  of  all  of  the 
men,  and  learned  that  Garth  himself  was  drawing 
the  same  salary  he  had  drawn  under  Arthur. 

"  Oh,  I'm  not  thinking  that  you're  holding  out  on 
me,"  he  laughed  at  Garth's  expression.  "  I've  just 
begun  thinking  that  it's  about  time  I'm  doing  part 
of  my  own  work.  So  everything  you  got  out  of 
the  sales  last  year  you  slapped  back  into  the  business, 
buying  more  cattle?  " 

"  I  sent  you  four  thousand,  you  remember," 
Garth  reminded  him. 

"You  don't  quite  get  me,  Garth.  What's  left 
of  that  four  thousand  wouldn't  buy  a  sack  of  to 
bacco.  We  haven't  banked  any  cash,  have  we?  " 

Even  now  Garth  hesitated,  Garth's  way.  Then 
he  answered. 


WILLIE  DART  PICKS  A  LOCK      205 

"Arthur  left  fifteen  hundred  in  the  bank.  I 
haven't  touched  that,  of  course.  If  you  haven't  — " 

"  I  didn't  know  it  was  there,"  laughed  Wayne. 
"  When  I  pulled  out  and  gave  you  my  power  of  at 
torney  I  let  everything  slide  off  my  shoulders  on  to 
yours.  Is  that  all?" 

"  I  banked  pretty  heavily  from  sales,"  Garth 
went  on.  "  Under  my  own  name,  as  it  saved 
trouble  and  I  didn't  know  when  you'd  show  up.  I 
drew  out  again,  for  the  men's  wages,  for  a  few  im 
provements  and  running  expenses,  for  the  other 
cattle  I  bought.  I've  got  the  vouchers,  if  you  want 
to  see  them." 

"  I  don't  want  to  see  them." 

"  There  is  still  something  left,"  Garth  said,  his 
voice  careless,  his  eyes  glancing  up  at  Shandon  and 
down  again.  "  It's  still  in  my  name.  About  four 
thousand." 

"  Good  boy,"  cried  Wayne.  "  That's  going  to 
save  me  some  trouble.  Will  you  give  me  a  check 
for  it,  Garth?" 

"  It's  yours,"  Garth  replied,  going  to  look  for 
pass  book  and  check  book.  But  when  he  returned 
he  could  not  refrain  from  asking,  "  What  are  you 
going  to  do  with  it,  Wayne  ?  " 

"  Double  it!  "  laughed  Shandon.  "  Bet  it  on  a 
horse  race,  my  boy!  But  look  here,"  seriously. 
"  I  want  only  five  thousand.  Counting  the  other 
fifteen  hundred  there's  something  over  that. 
iYou've  been  working  like  a  dog  for  a  year,  drawing 


206  THE  SHORT  CUT 

just  foreman's  wages  while  youVe  been  taking  the 
owner's  responsibilities.  I'm  going  to  shove  the 
other  five  hundred  down  your  throat  as  the  rest  of 
the  unpaid  wages  due  you,  or  a  bonus  or  whatever 
you  like  to  call  it." 

And  as  Garth's  momentary  stupefaction  was  fol 
lowed  by  what  threatened  to  be  very  profuse  thanks, 
Shandon  fled  to  the  stable  and  Little  Saxon. 

Already  word  of  the  race  to  be  run  in  the  spring 
time,  in  June  when  the  snows  would  be  gone,  had 
travelled  up  and  down  the  country.  Sledge  Hume's 
money  was  in  the  hands  of  Charlie  Granger  at  El 
Toyon,  and  the  order  signed  by  him  to  turn  over 
the  five  thousand  dollars  to  the  man  who  came  in 
first,  himself  or  Wayne  Shandon,  containing  the 
clause  which  he  had  insisted  upon,  making  it  clear 
that  if  only  one  man  entered  the  race  he  was  to  take 
the  money. 

Five  thousand  dollars  wagered  on  a  single  race; 
Red  Reckless  and  Sledge  Hume  riding;  Endymion, 
who  had  already  shown  those  who  knew  him  that 
for  beauty  and  speed  and  endurance  he  was  the  peer 
of  his  aristocratic,  thoroughbred  sire  and  dam;  Lit 
tle  Saxon,  whom  men  knew  yet  only  as  a  wild 
hearted  colt  being  tamed  by  a  man  who  knew  horses 
and  who  was  willing  to  lay  five  thousand  on  him 
against  his  brother;  the  course  a  ten  mile  sweep  of 
mountain  and  valley,  of  broken  trail  and  grassy 
meadow,  leading  from  the  high  lands  to  the  east  of 
Bar  L-M  and  Echo  Creek,  ending  at  the  Bar  L-M 


WILLIE  DART  PICKS  A  LOCK      207 

corrals;  this  one  event  was  enough  to  draw  the 
attention  of  men  up  and  down  the  cattle  country,  in 
the  mining  towns  and  lumber  camps.  Word  of  it 
went  everywhere;  letters  came  to  Wayne  Shandon 
from  other  men  who  had  horses,  who  suggested  this, 
that  and  the  other  race,  who  sought  to  find  men  to 
cover  their  bets. 

It  would  be  an  all  day  meet;  the  Bar  L-M  outfit 
would  entertain  generously;  there  would  be  barbe 
cued  beef;  every  one  was  welcome;  big  wagons 
would  be  busy  a  week  beforehand  bringing  in  enough 
food  for  a  small  army.  Any  man  had  the  oppor 
tunity  of  entering  his  own  horse  with  these  provisos : 
this  was  to  be  a  Western  race  in  all  essentials;  the 
horse  must  be  Western,  born  and  bred,  the  man  who 
owned  it  must  ride  his  own  horse.  There  would  be 
no  professional  jockeys;  there  would  be  no  book 
makers. 

News  of  the  race,  before  the  winter  had  come, 
more  than  six  months  before  the  day  set  in  June,  had 
gone  over  the  crest  of  the  Sierra  and  appeared  in 
the  papers  at  Reno.  It  had  flashed  across  telegraph 
wires  to  Sacramento;  had  been  talk  for  a  day  in 
many  a  place  where  sporting  men  foregather  in  San 
Francisco.  Men  who  had  never  heard  of  them 
before  came  to  know  of  Sledge  Hume  and  Wayne 
Shandon,  of  Endymion  and  Little  Saxon.  And  still 
Little  Saxon  was  but  a  half  broken  colt. 

"  It's  all  right,"  grunted  Willie  Dart  to  himself, 
kicking  his  heels  from  the  top  of  the  corral  and 


208  THE  SHORT  CUT 

watching  his  Noble  Benefactor  risking  his  life  in 
the  company  of  a  great,  belligerent  red-bay  horse. 
"  It's  all  right,  seeing  I'm  here.  Suppose  I  wasn't, 
suppose  I  was  still  dodging  cops  on  Broadway,  then 
what?  Then  Sledgehammer  Hume  would  put  some 
death-on-rats  in  Hell  Fire's  hay,  or  pick  Red  off 
with  a  shot  gun,  and  who  cops  onto  the  five  thou? 
A  man  don't  have  to  have  a  fortune  teller  for  a 
mother  to  get  wised  up  to  that." 

Little  by  little  the  proud  spirited  horse  learned  his 
lesson.  He  came  to  see  that  his  destiny  lay  in  the 
hands  of  the  man  who  came  out  to  him  daily.  He 
gave  over  trying  to  beat  the  man  to  death  with  his 
flying  heels ;  he  no  longer  sought  to  tear  at  him  with 
bared  teeth;  he  recognised  that  it  was  as  futile  to 
seek  to  hurl  the  man  from  his  back  as  to  break  the 
strong  cinch  which  held  the  saddle;  that  he  might 
run  until  he  killed  himself,  but  that  he  could  not  run 
away  from  the  man  who  rode  him  and  laughed. 
He  learned  that  in  this  world  that  had  been  so  ut 
terly  free  for  him  there  was  one  single  being  who 
was  his  master  in  all  things,  whom  he  must  obey. 
And,  when  obedience  came,  pleasure  in  that  obe 
dience  followed,  and  trust  and  faith  and  love. 

That  year  winter  came  in  as  it  had  not  come  to 
these  mountains  for  twenty-seven  years,  early,  un 
heralded  and  hard.  The  cattle  and  horses  had  not 
yet  been  moved  down  to  the  lower  ranges  when  one 
day,  in  mid-afternoon,  the  air  thickened,  bursting 


WILLIE  DART  PICKS  A  LOCK      209 

black  clouds  drove  up  from  the  southwest,  the  for 
ests  rocked  moaning  and  shuddering  under  the 
smashing  impact  of  the  sudden  storm,  the  sun  was 
lost  in  a  darkness  that  grew  impenetrable  toward 
the  time  of  dusk,  and  the  skies  opened  to  a  down 
pour  of  rain.  For  upwards  of  an  hour  the  great 
drops  drove  unceasingly  into  the  dry  ground  while 
giant  daggers  of  lightning  stabbed  at  the  earth  that 
seemed  to  bellow  its  torment  in  reverberating  roars. 
Then  the  slanting  rain  stopped  as  suddenly  as  it  had 
begun,  the  wind  went  howling  through  the  forests 
and  was  gone,  and  in  the  stillness  which  ushered  in 
the  true  night  the  snow  began. 

All  night  it  snowed,  steadily,  without  cease.  The 
morning  dawned  wanly  on  a  white  world;  distant 
peaks  and  ridges  were  blotted  out  in  the  grey,  snow 
filled  air.  Men  who  were  careless  yesterday 
became  to-day  filled  with  an  activity  which  was  swift 
and  tireless.  In  candlelight  and  lamplight  they 
dressed  hurriedly  and  made  speedy  breakfasts. 
This  storm  might  be  nothing  but  a  warning  of  win 
ter;  it  might  be  the  first  day  of  a  snowfall  that  would 
continue  for  two  weeks.  In  any  event  it  was  high 
time  to  have  the  cattle  on  the  run  to  the  lower 
valleys. 

'*  Two  days  of  this,"  grunted  Big  Bill  as  he  kicked 
his  way  viciously  through  the  snow  already  over 
ankle  deep  on  the  way  to  the  stable,  "  an'  the 
passes'll  be  so  choked  up  we  can't  whoop  the  cow 
brutes  through  'em.  An*  me,  I  ain't  hankerin' 


210  THE  SHORT  CUT 

after  totin'  a  bawlin'  calf  under  each  arm,  nuther." 
All  day  long,  upon  the  Bar  L— M  and  the  Echo 
Creek,  men  were  riding  deep  into  the  sheltered 
ravines,  bringing  out  the  stock,  heading  the  strag 
glers  westward  down  the  valleys,  gathering  the  dif 
ferent  herds  into  one  on  each  ranch  to  crowd  them 
out  of  the  belt  of  hard  winter.  Many  men  rode 
many  miles  that  day,  changing  their  horses  at  noon, 
making  a  hasty  meal  when  they  could,  riding  again. 
Always  before  this  year  the  herds  of  the  Bar 
L— M  had  been  pushed  across  the  bridge  or  made 
to  swim  the  river  where  it  was  wide  and  shallow, 
and  driven  across  a  corner  of  the  Echo  Creek  ranch 
by  the  most  direct  route  out.  But  this  year  Wayne 
Shandon  briefly  gave  new  orders,  telling  his  men  to 
keep  on  the  Bar  L— M  property  as  long  as  they 
could,  then  to  throw  the  herds  across  the  ridge  to 
the  south  and  along  a  harder,  longer  trail  to  the 
county  road  ten  miles  further  west.  He  offered  no 
explanation,  his  men  asked  none.  It  was  but  an 
other  indication  to  them  of  the  thing  which  was 
already  no  secret,  that  there  was  some  sort  of  se 
rious  trouble  between  Wayne  Shandon  and  Martin 
Leland. 

Wayne  and  Garth  intended  to  stay  that  night  at 
the  range  house,  being  the  last  two  men  to  leave, 
after  attending  to  the  countless  little  things  which 
must  be  done  about  a  ranch  before  it  is  abandoned 
to  the  winter  and  solitude.  They  planned  to  follow 
the  rest  of  the  Bar  L-M  outfit  in  the  morning. 


WILLIE  DART  PICKS  A  LOCK      211 

Even  Martin  Leland  who  usually  moved  his  stock 
early  had  been  caught  unprepared.  The  fine 
weather  preceding  the  storm  had  tricked  him;  he 
had  not  planned  the  drive  until  two  weeks  yet.  He, 
too,  having  worked  with  his  men  all  day,  having  rid 
den  the  first  half  dozen  miles  with  them,  came  back 
to  spend  the  night  at  his  home. 

That  afternoon,  while  the  men  of  both  ranges 
were  doing  two  days'  work  in  one,  Willie  Dart  called 
upon  Wanda.  Mr.  Dart  made  it  a  part  of  his  busi 
ness  in  life  to  be  on  good  terms  with  every  one.  He 
ignored  the  contemptuous  grunts  of  Wanda's  father, 
and  in  speaking  of  him  referred  to  him  as,  "  My  old 
pal,  Mart."  Martin  tolerated  him,  Mrs.  Leland 
was  amused  by  him,  Wanda  welcomed  him  as  com 
ing  from  Wayne's  home,  as  always  a  possible  bearer 
of  tidings  from  Wayne  himself.  And  such  he  was 
to-day. 

For  there  had  been  no  time  for  signalling,  the 
snow  had  veiled  the  cliffs  across  the  miles,  and 
Wayne  must  send  word  of  his  sudden  necessary 
change  of  plans.  So  he  entrusted  a  note  to  Mr. 
Dart,  having  first  sealed  it  in  its  envelope  and  in 
formed  the  carrier  that  if  he  pried  into  it  the  police 
in  New  York  would  learn  by  telegraph  of  the  pres 
ent  whereabouts  of  Mr.  Dart. 

Wanda  and  Dart  were  alone  in  the  big  living 
room  while  Mrs.  Leland  was  busied  with  Julia  in 
making  preparations  within  the  house  for  the  siege 
of  winter.  As  she  left  the  room  Mr.  Dart  winked 


212  THE  SHORT  CUT 

slyly  at  Wanda,  tapped  his  breast  pocket,  winked 
the  other  eye  and  assumed  the  air  of  a  man  bearing 
secret  and  very  mysterious  messages.  In  due  time 
he  brought  out  the  letter,  the  flap  of  the  envelope 
showing  so  little  sign  of  having  been  tampered  with 
that  it  was  not  to  be  expected  that  the  eager  girl 
would  note  it.  Mr.  Dart  afterwards  admitted  that 
he  prided  himself  upon  the  appearance  of  that  en 
velope,  all  things,  including  inclement  weather,  con 
sidered  —  and  presented  it  with  a  whispered, 

"  Red  wouldn't  trust  anybody  with  it  but  me. 
Say,  he's  some  kid,  ain't  he,  Wanda?  " 

Beaming  on  her  like  a  cherub  in  checked  suit  and 
brilliant  necktie,  he  approached  a  little  nearer  and 
whispered  again, 

"  Me,  I'll  just  mosey  out  on  the  porch  while  you 
flash  your  eyes  over  Red's  handwrite.  Delicacy's 
my  other  name,  times  like  this." 

Still  beaming  he  winked  again,  still  winking  let 
himself  silently  out  of  the  front  door. 

Considering  that  all  Wayne  Shandon  had  to  write 
a  letter  about  was  to  tell  Wanda  that  he  was  hurry 
ing  out  with  the  herds  to-morrow,  that  when  during 
the  next  few  weeks  he  could  get  back  he  would  sig 
nal  with  smoke  from  the  cliffs  above  her  cave,  it 
must  have  taken  him  a  long  time  to  say  it.  Con 
sidering  how  little  she  had  to  read  Wanda  must  have 
been  very  deliberate  in  reading  Wayne's  scrawl.  At 
any  rate,  long  before  she  had  finished,  Mr.  Willie 
Dart  had  gone  silently  down  the  porch,  peered  in 


WILLIE  DART  PICKS  A  LOCK      213 

the  kitchen  window  at  Mrs.  Leland  and  Julia,  con 
tinued  on  to  the  door  of  Martin's  study  and  let  him 
self  in.  The  door  had  been  locked,  at  that,  when 
Dart's  beautiful  fingers  first  touched  it,  and  they  had 
done  what  Mr.  Dart  himself  termed  "  plying  his 
profession." 

"  I  ain't  had  a  chance  like  this  since  I  was  three/* 
Mr.  Dart  told  himself  contentedly.  "  Honest,  I 
ain't.  Now,  if  these  nice  old  country  gents  think 
they  can  put  over  something  with  my  old  pal  Red, 
and  me  not  know  just  how  they're  figuring  on  the 
skinning  party,  they  better  wise  up." 

He  closed  the  door  silently,  and  any  sound  he 
made  might  have  been  that  of  a  pin  dropped  on  a 
thick  carpet.  He  surveyed  the  room  with  eyes  that 
missed  nothing. 

"  I  knew  it,"  he  smiled,  as  though  at  the  sight  of 
an  old  friend  as  he  found  the  safe  in  the  far  corner 
of  the  room.  "  I  heard  your  door  shut  the  other 
day,  old  party,  when  I  was  chumming  with  Wanda 
and  you  and  the  rest  of  the  combination  was  talking 
war  talk.  Not  to  waste  time  we'll  begin  with  you." 

It  was  an  old  safe,  an  old,  old  make  and  style,  and 
Mr.  Dart  sighed  and  shook  his  head  a  little  disap 
pointedly  as  he  knelt,  brought  out  of  his  pockets  a 
set  of  bright,  new  tools  and  set  to  work. 

"  Any  time,"  he  mused  when  the  door  swung 
open,  "  that  they  put  a  pal  of  mine  out  of  the  run 
ning  they  better  get  up-to-date." 


CHAPTER  XVI 

AND   SOLVES   A    FASCINATING   MYSTERY 

RIDING  furiously  with  the  fury  of  the  storm 
as  though  swept  onward  with  it,  looking  the 
very  spirit  of  the  wintry  season  that  is  made 
of  black  nights  and  cold,  bright  days,  a  woman  was 
hastening  upon  a  jaded  horse  toward  the  Echo 
Creek  ranch  house  from  the  direction  of  El  Toyon 
and  the  railroad.  She  rode  well,  sitting  straight  in 
the  heavy  saddle,  and  she  rode  hard.  When  the 
horse  stumbled  or  floundered  in  the  loose  snow  she 
jerked  angrily  at  the  reins  and  cut  sharply  with  her 
riding  whip. 

She  entered  the  yard  and  rode  up  to  the  porch 
while  Wanda  was  still  deep  in  Wayne's  letter,  while 
Dart  was  forming  his  lips  to  a  soft,  silent  whistle 
over  a  document  which  had  passed  from  a  drawer 
of  the  safe  into  his  caressing  white  fingers.  The 
woman  dismounted  quickly  but  a  little  stiffly  as 
though  from  cold  or  fatigue,  and  fastening  her 
horse's  reins  with  numb,  gloved  fingers  hastened  up 
the  steps  to  the  living  room  door.  She  rapped 
loudly  and  Wanda,  thinking  that  this  was  but  a 
further  evidence  of  the  fact  that  one  of  Mr.  Dart's 
names  was  Delicacy,  called  out,  "  Come  in." 

214 


SOLVES  A  FASCINATING  MYSTERY    215 

It  was  with  a  little  start  of  surprise  that  Wanda 
saw  her.  A  young  woman,  twenty-five  perhaps,  of 
that  rare  sort  of  personality  that  asserts  itself  in  a 
flash.  Exquisitely  cloaked  and  furred,  clad  from 
tiny  boots  to  cap  in  black,  her  hair  black,  her  eyes 
large  and  luminous  and  black.  Furs  and  cloak 
failed  to  hide  the  erect  gracefulness  of  the  slender 
form,  the  poise  of  which  as  well  as  the  carriage  of 
the  head  indicated  an  imperious  disposition.  The 
woman  was  undeniably  beautiful,  her  loveliness  the 
delicately  featured,  perfectly  chiselled  beauty  that  is 
called  classic.  The  fur  cap  upon  the  small  head 
was  snow  encrusted  and  sat  upon  her  cold  beauty 
like  a  coronet;  under  it  the  escaping  tendrils  of  jet 
black  hair  were  fashioned  by  the  cold  into  a  glisten 
ing  mesh  of  silver  threads. 

"This  is  the  Leland  place,  isn't  it?"  was  her 
abrupt  greeting. 

"  Yes,"  Wanda  replied,  not  yet  quite  recovered 
from  the  surprise  of  the  sudden  vision. 

"You  are  Wanda  Leland,  I  suppose?  "  the  cool, 
deep-throated  voice  went  on  as  the  black  eyes  flashed 
critically  from  the  girl's  face  to  her  house  dress,  her 
pumps,  the  letter  in  her  hands,  her  face  again. 

"  Yes,"  Wanda  repeated  quietly.  She  disliked 
the  little  air  this  woman  had  about  her,  the  subtle 
hint  of  patronage  and  superiority,  but  her  natural 
wish  to  be  hospitable  to  a  stranger  driven  hither  by 
the  storm  made  her  seek  to  ignore  this  first  im 
pression. 


2i6  THE  SHORT  CUT 

"  I'm  Claire  Hazleton.  IVe  just  ridden  in  from 
El  Toyon.  My  horse  is  done  up,  I'm  afraid,  or  I 
shouldn't  have  troubled  you." 

Wanda's  quick,  ready  smile  flashed  out  at  this 
and  she  came  forward,  putting  out  her  hand. 

"  I'm  glad  that  you  did  come,"  she  said  cordially. 
"  You  must  be  tired  to  death  and  simply  frozen. 
If  you'll  come  up  to  the  fire  and  take  off  your  things 
I'll  make  some  tea  or  coffee." 

Claire  Hazleton's  slim  gloved  hand  accepted 
Wanda's,  touching  it  lightly. 

"  You  are  too  kind,"  she  began  formally.  "  If 
it  wouldn't  be  too  much  bother  —  " 

"  Nonsense,"  laughed  Wanda.  "  If  you'll  make 
yourself  cozy  at  the  fire  I'll  be  back  in  a  moment." 

Hurrying  out,  Wanda  had  a  glimpse  of  Willie 
Dart  standing  on  the  porch,  his  hands  in  his  pockets, 
his  big  innocent  eyes  beaming  approvingly  at  the 
snow  and  the  sky  and  the  world  in  general.  As  she 
went  on  her  way  to  the  kitchen,  Mr.  Dart,  having 
in  turn  looked  approvingly  at  her,  shifted  his  gaze 
to  the  panting  saddle  horse  standing  with  drooping 
head  at  the  steps,  and  then,  putting  his  hands  under 
his  coat  tails,  he  returned  to  the  living  room.  Claire 
Hazleton  had  just  removed  her  outer  wraps  and  was 
warming  her  hands  at  the  fire.  Mr.  Dart,  noticing 
the  cluster  of  rings  on  her  fingers,  flapped  his  coat 
tails  up  and  down  and  closed  the  door  behind  him 
with  his  elbow. 

"  Say,"  he  began  pleasantly,  "  it's  fierce  outside, 


SOLVES  A  FASCINATING  MYSTERY     217 

ain't  it?  Talk  about  a  slush  party.  Ain't  this  a 
ring  tailed  dandy?  " 

She  turned  upon  him  slowly  and  bestowed  upon 
him  a  long  stare,  frankly  curious.  Then  she  laughed. 

"  It  certainly  is  a  ring  tailed  dandy,"  she  ad 
mitted  musically.  "You  aren't  Mr.  Leland,  are 
you?" 

Dart  laughed  too,  his  amusement  apparently  as 
genuine  as  hers,  and  entirely  unabashed  by  the  un 
concealed  appraisal  of  her  glance  at  him. 

1  You're  joshing,"  he  retorted,  coming  closer  so 
that  while  he  could  look  at  her  he  could  turn  his 
coat  tails  to  the  fire.  "  There's  as  much  difference 
between  me  and  my  old  pal  Mart  as  there  is  be 
tween  you  and  a  picture  of  a  little  country  girl  pick 
ing  buttercups." 

"  You  don't  think  I  look  the  part?  "  she  smiled. 

"You?"  He  favoured  her  with  the  full  meas 
ure  of  his  supreme  impudence  as  he  looked  her  over. 
'*  You're  just  built  to  play  the  queen's  part  in  a 
tragedy  show  on  Broadway.  After  the  first  night 
there'd  be  just  one  theatre  doing  business." 

She  frowned  quickly,  her  eyes  darkening  as  they 
had  when  she  struck  with  her  whip  at  her  tired 
horse.  Then  she  shrugged  her  shoulders  and 
laughed  again. 

'*  You're  very  flattering,"  she  said  in  a  way  which 
made  Dart  look  at  her  sharply  and  which  for  a  very 
brief  time  left  him  a  little  uncertain. 

"Me?"    he    said.     "You    wrong    me,    lady. 


218  THE  SHORT  CUT 

Honest  you  do.  I'm  sired  by  a  gentleman  who  was 
a  Baptist  minister  and  who  instilled  in  his  only 
son  if  you  lie  once  you'll  do  it  some  more  and  then 
you'll  get  caught.  Say,  seeing  Wanda  ain't  here  to 
do  the  knockdown  stunt,  I'm  Dart,  Mr.  Willie  Dart, 
to  command." 

He  bobbed  her  a  bow,  accompanied  the  ceremony 
with  a  little  flap  of  the  coat  tails,  and  all  the  while 
did  not  shift  his  round,  inquisitive  eyes  from  her 
face. 

"  Being  acquainted  now,"  he  went  on  when  a  little 
pause  assured  him  that  she  was  not  going  to  respond 
with  an  exchange  of  names,  "  just  make  yourself  to 
home,  won't  you?  I'll  duck  in  and  tell  Wanda 
you're  here.  And,"  merely  as  an  afterthought, 
"  what  name  will  I  say,  lady?  " 

"  Don't  bother,"  she  replied  coolly.  "  She  knows 
I'm  here." 

"  Does  she?  She  hasn't  been  expecting  you,  has 
she?" 

u  No."  Miss  Hazleton's  interest  in  the  little 
man  had  evidently  died  a  sudden  death,  and  her  one 
concern  now  seemed  to  get  herself  warm  and  dry. 

"  She's  one  great  little  kid,  Wanda  is,  ain't  she?  " 
he  ran  on,  totally  unaffected  by  the  significance  of  the 
young  woman's  back  whose  graceful  curves  were  not 
lost  to  his  admiring  eyes. 

"  If  you  say  so  she  must  be,"  came  the  calm  an 
swer.  "  I  never  saw  her  before  to-day." 

"  And  you  don't  know  old  Mart?  "     She  did  not 


SOLVES  A  FASCINATING  MYSTERY     219 

know  Wanda,  he  surmised,  she  had  wondered  if 
he  were  Leland,  then  it  must  be  Mrs.  Leland  she  had 
come  to  see.  "  Say,"  he  continued,  "  maybe  Wanda 
couldn't  find  Mamma  Leland!  I'll  just  slip  in  and 
break  the  news.  Gee,  won't  she  be  tickled  to  see 
you,  you  coming  unexpected  like  this?  " 

"  Really,  Mr.  Dart,"  she  told  him  crisply,  "  you 
needn't  take  the  trouble.  Mrs.  Leland  wouldn't 
be  the  least  bit  glad  to  see  me  as  she  doesn't  know 
me.  And  if  you  haven't  discovered  the  fact  already 
I  might  as  well  tell  you  that  I  am  eminently  capable 
of  managing  my  own  affairs." 

Mr.  Dart's  silent  whistle  came  very  near  being 
audible.  But  he  answered  in  a  voice  which  was 
meant  to  assure  her  that  his  sensitive  nature  had  not 
been  hurt  and  that  his  admiration  had  merely  been 
stimulated. 

"  That's  me,"  he  said  brightly.  "  Give  me  the 
dame  every  time  that  makes  her  own  play  and  don't 
yell,  '  Help  '  if  she  sticks  a  pin  in  her  finger.  Them 
doll-babies  some  guys  go  dippy  over  don't  qualify 
for  the  finals  with  me." 

But  Mr.  Dart  was  puzzled.  She  had  ridden 
here  through  this  storm,  she  had  come  all  the  way 
from  El  Toyon,  for  he  had  not  been  inattentive 
while  he  had  been  just  outside  the  door  before 
Wanda  left  the  room,  and  she  did  not  know  a  single 
person  on  the  ranch.  The  very  reason  for  her 
presence  here  was  a  challenge  to  Dart's  peculiar 
temperament. 


220  THE  SHORT  CUT 

"  Tell  you  what  I'll  do,"  he  resumed,  "  I'll  take 
that  skate  of  yours  down  to  the  barn  and  throw 
some  hay  into  him.  He  looks  like  it  would  do  him 
good  in  case  the  shock  don't  undermine  his  system." 

He  made  his  hesitant  way  toward  the  door,  his 
pride  a  little  wounded  at  being  defeated  in  the 
initial  skirmish,  his  confident  optimism  looking  for 
ward  eagerly  to  a  more  skilful  attack.  And  then  a 
word  from  Miss  Hazleton  brought  him  back  to  the 
charge. 

"  Don't  trouble  to  take  the  saddle  off,"  she  said 
without  turning.  "  I  shall  be  riding  on  as  soon  as 
I  have  my  tea." 

Riding  on?  Where?  The  very  course  she  had 
come  pointed  at  one  place. 

"  It's  quite  a  ways  to  Red's,"  he  said  quickly. 
"  You  better  take  it  easy  and  rest  up  a  bit." 

"  Red's?"  she  condescended  to  ask. 

"  Sure.  Shandon's,  you  know.  You're  headed 
for  the  Bar  L-M,  ain't  you?  Say,  I'm  going  back 
that  way  myself  pretty  soon.  Suppose  you  come 
along  with  me?  I  got  a  cart.  It  ain't  much  to  look 
at  but  anyhow  it  beats  pounding  saddle  leather. 
We  can  lead  your  skate,  if  you  want  to." 

And  rather  to  Dart's  surprise  she  answered 
promptly, 

"  Thank  you.  That  will  be  better.  But  in  any 
case  don't  unsaddle.  And  when  you  come  in  will 
you  bring  the  little  bag  strapped  behind  the 
saddle?" 


SOLVES  A  FASCINATING  MYSTERY     221 

Wanda  returned  then,  bringing  the  tea  and  a 
hastily  prepared  lunch.  Dart  winked  at  her  as  he 
went  out  He  led  the  shivering  horse  at  a  trot 
to  the  barn. 

"  Now,"  he  grunted  in  a  mournful  tone  that  spoke 
of  disappointment  and  hinted  at  disgust,  "  wouldn't 
you  think,  to  look  at  her,  that  dame  had  more  stuff 
in  her  head  than  to  do  a  trick  like  that?  " 

For  the  little  black  bag  was  locked  and  the  key 
was  gone,  and  the  lock  was  a  thing  to  make  Mr. 
Dart  sigh  and  shake  his  head  as  he  had  done  over 
Martin's  safe. 

"  I'll  get  so  used  to  turning  baby  tricks,"  he  mused, 
"  I  won't  be  able  to  do  a  real  man's  work.  Well, 
it  can't  be  helped  when  a  man's  putting  in  time  in 
a  place  like  this.  Now,  Lady  Clamshell,  we'll  take 
a  peep  and  see  if  your  baggage  — " 

The  bag  was  open,  its  contents  rifled  by  slim, 
white  fingers  that  seemed,  each  one,  endowed  with 
a  brain  of  its  own.  In  an  incredibly  short  time 
various  negligible  feminine  articles  had  been  ex 
amined  and  replaced  very  carefully  and  exactly,  a 
handkerchief  without  so  much  as  a  laundry  mark, 
a  silver  vanity  set  with  no  monogram,  and  then 
came  the  reward  to  Mr.  Dart's  curiosity.  It  wa? 
a  card  case  half  filled  with  calling  cards. 

Mr.  Dart  did  a  thing  he  had  rarely  done  in  his 
life.  He  swore.  He  said : 

"Well,  I'll  be  damned!" 

And  being  alone,  speaking  confidentially  to  him- 


222  THE  SHORT  CUT 

self,  he  may  have  meant  it.     He  looked  as  though 
he  did. 

'  You  are  very  kind,  Miss  Leland,"  the  new 
comer  was  saying  quietly.  "  I  should  like  to  accept 
your  hospitality  further.  It  has  been  a  pleasure  to 
meet  you,  I  am  sure.  But  you  will  infer  from  my 
being  abroad  at  all  at  a  time  like  this  that  my 
errand  is  urgent.  I  must  be  going  immediately." 

Mr.  Dart  came  in  at  this  juncture,  his  expression 
void  of  all  emotion  except  a  deep,  unhidden  admira 
tion  which  embraced  the  two  women,  both  of  whom 
he  felt  honoured  in  including  in  the  list  of  his  friends. 

"  Miss  Hazleton,"  began  Wanda,  "  I  didn't  in 
troduce  you  to  Mr.  Dart." 

"  He  did,"  replied  the  other  briefly. 

"  Sure,"  supplemented  Dart.  He  handed  the 
black  bag  to  its  owner  and  asked  casually,  "  You're 
strong  for  hitting  the  pike  right  away?  " 

"  If  you  are  ready." 

"  Right-o,  Miss  Hazleton,"  he  answered,  pro 
nouncing  the  name  as  though  he  enjoyed  the  sound 
of  it.  "  I  came  over  on  some  hurry-up  business," 
with  a  sly  look  at  Wanda  that  brought  a  little  flush 
to  her  cheeks,  "  and  I  didn't  unhook.  Old  Bots  is 
pawing  the  earth  and  snorting  his  eagerness  to  help 
out.  Say  the  word  and  we're  off." 

Involuntarily  Wanda  showed  her  surprise  at  the 
arrangement.  It  was  the  first  word  she  had  had 
of  their  way  lying  together. 


SOLVES  A  FASCINATING  MYSTERY    223 

"  The  lady's  going  over  to  the  Bar  L-M,"  Dart 
remarked  as  he  observed  Wanda's  look.  "  She's 
a  friend  of  Red's." 

"  Oh,"  said  Wanda. 

She  strove  immediately  to  act  and  speak  as  though 
there  were  nothing  unusual  in  the  situation.  Miss 
Hazleton  put  on  her  coat  and  furs  again  without 
volunteering  further  information,  while  Dart  hur 
ried  away  for  his  own  cart  and  her  horse.  Wanda 
accompanied  them  to  the  porch,  saw  them  seated 
and  starting  and  then  returned  to  the  house  with 
a  little  hurt  feeling  in  her  heart  which  she  knew 
was  foolish  but  which  she  could  not  drive  out.  If 
Claire  Hazleton  and  Wayne  Shandon  were  upon 
such  intimate  terms  that  she  made  this  trip  to  see 
him,  it  was  a  little  strange  that  Wayne  had  never 
so  much  as  mentioned  her  name  to  her. 

;<  Wait  a  minute,"  cried  Dart,  jerking  his  horse 
up  short  before  they  had  gone  fifty  yards  from  the 
house.  "  I  forgot  my  gloves." 

He  shoved  the  reins  into  his  companion's  hands, 
jumped  down  and  running  back  burst  in  bright  faced 
and  eager  upon  Wanda,  startling  her  with  the  sud 
den  unexpectedness  of  his  return.  With  his  finger 
upon  his  lips,  his  air  surcharged  with  mystery,  he 
came  close  to  her. 

"Have  you  wised  up?"  he  whispered.  "Got 
next  to  who  the  mysterious  fairy  is?  " 

"  She's  Miss  Claire  Hazleton,"  said  Wanda  a 
little  stiffly  and  a  bit  puzzled. 


224  THE  SHORT  CUT 

"  Rats !  "  grunted  Mr.  Dart  putting  much  elo 
quence  into  the  monosyllable.  "  That's  a  bum 
monniker  out  of  a  French  love  story.  It's  the 
Roosian  princess.  It's  Helga,  that's  who  it  is!  " 

He  slipped  a  little  engraved  calling  card  into  her 
hand,  winked  into  her  amazed  eyes,  drew  a  pair  of 
gloves  out  of  his  hip  pocket,  crumpled  them  in  his 
hand  and  hastened  back  to  the  cart. 

Wanda  stared  a  moment  at  the  card.  Then  she 
flung  it  from  her  and  with  blazing  eyes  watched 
the  flames  in  the  fireplace  lick  at  it. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

"WHERE'S  THAT  TWENTY-FIVE  THOUSAND? 
WHAT'S  THE  ANSWER?" 

THE  little  clock  in  Wayne  Shandon's  room 
maintained  stoutly  in  the  face  of  the  gather 
ing  gloom  outside,  in  defiance  of  the  lighted 
lamp  upon  the  table,  that  it  was  still  an  hour  before 
sunset.  The  snow  was  still  falling  steadily,  thickly, 
swept  here  and  there  into  shifting  mounds,  choking 
the  mountain  passes,  robing  trees  and  fence  posts  and 
buildings,  each  feathery  flake  adhering  where  it 
struck  softly  as  though  it  had  been  a  gummed  wafer. 

"  Garth  and  I  will  have  to  get  out  to-morrow," 
Shandon  muttered,  drawing  off  his  heavy  coat  and 
tossing  it  to  the  chair  across  the  room,  "  or  we'll 
have  to  beat  it  out  on  snowshoes  —  I  wonder  what's 
keeping  Dart?  " 

There  came  a  rap  at  the  front  door  and  Shandon, 
supposing  that  already  his  question  was  answered, 
called,  "  Come  in." 

"  You  never  can  tell  what  that  little  devil  will 
do  next,"  he  grunted.  "  Snoop  into  a  man's  private 
business  every  time  he  gets  the  chance  and  then  stand 
outside  knocking  at  the  door  in  a  day  like  this. 
Come  in." 

Then,  when  the  knocking  came  again,  louder,  in- 
225 


226  THE  SHORT  CUT 

sistent  and  imperative,  he  realised  that  there  was  the 
bare  possibility  that  the  thumb  latch  had  caught 
and,  crossing  the  room  he  jerked  the  door  open. 

"Is  this  Mr.  Shandon?" 

The  cool,  confident  voice  though  a  woman's  was 
not  Wanda's,  and  Shandon  realised  that  he  had 
been  a  fool  to  let  his  heart  leap  as  it  had  when  his 
eyes  made  out  through  the  murkiness  that  it  was  a 
woman. 

1  Yes,"  he  answered,  wondering. 

"  May  I  come  in?  "  she  asked  a  little  impatiently. 
u  I  have  come  a  long  way  to  see  you." 

Wondering  more  than  ever  he  threw  the  door 
wide  open,  showed  her  the  way  into  the  living  room 
and  lighted  a  lamp.  There  was  no  fire  in  the  room 
but  she  went  quite  naturally  to  the  fireplace.  He 
glanced  at  her  sharply,  knew  that  he  had  never 
seen  her  before  for  he  would  have  remembered  her, 
understood  that  she  was  a  woman  of  the  cities,  and 
said, 

"  Are  you  very  cold?  Just  a  minute  and  I'll 
have  a  fire  going.  I  came  in  only  a  moment  before 
I  heard  your  knock." 

She  did  not  speak  until  he  had  gathered  an  arm 
ful  of  wood  from  the  box  at  the  side  of  the  fireplace 
and  had  flung  it  upon  the  blaze  that  a  match  had 
started  from  a  bit  of  paper  and  some  pitch  pine. 
Nor  did  she  seem  in  haste  to  speak  even  then  when 
he  stood  across  the  hearth  looking  at  her.  But  not 
for  a  second  had  her  approving  eyes  left  him;  no 


"WHAT'S  THE  ANSWER?"         227 

opportunity  had  they  lost  to  watch  the  man's  face 
intently. 

"  Where  did  you  come  from  in  all  this  storm?  " 
he  asked  curiously. 

"  Remotely,  from  New  York.  Immediately  from 
El  Toyon." 

"Lord!"  he  ejaculated.  "You  must  be  dead. 
I'll  get  you  something  hot,  some  coffee.  We 
haven't  any  tea,  I'm  afraid." 

She  laughed  coolly,  evidently  quite  at  home  with 
him. 

"  If  a  man  came  in,  frozen  stiff,  would  you  offer 
him  a  cup  of  tea?  " 

"  What  do  you  mean?  "  He  had  started  toward 
the  kitchen,  and  stopped. 

"  I  mean  brandy,  if  youVe  got  any.  It  would 
do  me  a  lot  of  good.  Wanda  Leland  just  poured 
some  tea  down  me  and  I  didn't  want  to  shock 
her." 

Wayne  stood  frowning  at  her  a  moment,  a  ques 
tion  on  his  lips.  Then  he  went  to  the  kitchen  and 
got  a  bottle  and  a  glass.  She  had  drawn  a  chair 
close  up  to  the  fire  when  he  returned  and  was  lean 
ing  back  in  it  luxuriously,  her  feet  thrust  out  to  the 
blaze. 

v<  Thanks,"  she  said,  taking  the  glass  he  handed 
her.  "  I  am  drinking  to  our  better  acquaint 


ance." 


She  set  the  glass  down  upon  the  arm  of  her  chair, 
half  emptied,  and  smiled  up  at  him. 


228  THE  SHORT  CUT 

"  I  want  a  good  long  talk  if  you  can  spare  the 
time.  Can  you?  " 

"  Of  course,'*  he  said  briefly. 

"  It  is  my  particular  desire  that  no  one  but  your 
self  hears  what  I  have  to  say." 

"  No  one  is  here  except  Garth  and  myself.  And 
Garth  hasn't  come  in  from  the  corrals  yet." 

"  Excellent."  Her  black  eyes  flashed  from  him 
to  the  various  rude  appointments  of  the  room, 
flashed  back  to  him.  "  I  am  Helga  Strawn,"  she 
said  abruptly. 

He  repeated  the  name  after  her  in  surprise: 

"Helga  Strawn?" 

"  Yes.  Perhaps  you  guess  right  away  what  has 
brought  me  West,  to  you  first  of  all?  " 

"  No,"  he  said.     "  I  don't  think  that  I  do." 

"  Then  I'll  tell  you.  That's  what  I  am  here  for. 
Don't  begin  to  think  that  I  saw  a  picture  of  you 
somewhere  and  fell  in  love  with  it." 

The  finely  chiselled  lips,  too  faultlessly  perfect  at 
any  time  to  be  warmly  womanly,  were  suddenly 
hard.  Her  eyes  had  become  brilliant,  twin  spots  of 
colour  came  into  her  cheeks. 

"  At  least  you  remember  my  name  ?  " 

"Helga  Strawn?  Yes,  I  remember  it.  You 
learned  from  a  mutual  acquaintance  that  I  was  in 
New  York  some  time  ago.  You  wrote  me  then. 
You  are  a  cousin  of  Sledge  Hume." 

"  Not  exactly  a  cousin,"  she  corrected  him.  "  I 
am  not  so  proud  of  the  relationship  as  to  wish  to 


<  WHAT'S  THE  ANSWER?"         229 

make  it  closer  than  it  is.  But  that  does  not  matter. 
You  remember  also  why  I  wrote  you?  " 

"  Yes.  You  said  that  yourself  and  Hume  had 
inherited  equal  interests  in  the  Dry  Lands.  That 
through  letters  Hume  had  persuaded  you  to  sell  your 
interest  to  him.  After  you  had  sold  you  began  to 
think  that  he  had  japped  you.  You  wanted  to  know 
from  me  what  the  property  was  actually  worth." 

"  I  am  glad  that  you  remember.  You  answered 
my  letter.  You  told  me  that  you  had  always  con 
sidered  the  land  hardly  worth  paying  taxes  on." 

"  Yes." 

"  If  I  asked  you  now,  that  same  question,  what 
would  you  say?  " 

He  hesitated.  The  Dry  Lands  were  no  whit 
more  valuable  to-day  than  they  had  been  last  year. 
But  if  the  scheme  Hume  was  engineering  went 
through  it  would  be  a  different  matter. 

"  You  have  already  sold  your  interest,  given  the 
deed,  haven't  you,  Miss  Strawn?  What  difference 
does  it  make?  "  he  asked  bluntly. 

"What  if  I  have?"  she  countered  coolly.  "I 
am  not  the  sort  of  woman,  Mr.  Shandon,  to  sit 
with  my  hands  in  my  lap  when  a  man  has  done  a 
piece  of  sharp  business  with  me.  I  needed  the 
money  and  like  a  fool  I  sold  to  Hume.  And  now 
I  know  as  well  as  I  know  anything  that  he  didn't 
pay  me  a  tenth  of  what  the  property  was  worth. 
Yes,  I  have  given  the  deed.  You  think  that  I  am 
a  fool  again  to  come  clear  across  the  continent  upon 


230  THE  SHORT  CUT 

a  matter  that  went  out  of  my  hands  a  year  ago !  " 
She  laughed,  her  laugh  reminding  him  unpleasantly 
of  the  man  of  whom  they  were  talking.  "  :You  see, 
you  don't  know  me  yet." 

"  I  don't  see  just  how  I  can  be  of  service  to  you," 
he  suggested. 

"  I'll  try  to  be  explicit.  I  have  never  had  the 
pleasure  of  meeting  Mr.  Hume  and  yet  I  think  that 
I  could  write  a  very  correct  character  sketch  of  the 
gentleman.  Egotism  and  selfishness,  two  things  in 
most  men,  just  one  in  Sledge  Hume !  He  is  shrewd 
and  hard  and  his  god  is  gold.  Am  I  right?  " 

"  Hume  is  hardly  an  intimate  acquaintance  of 


mine." 


She  laughed  softly,  twisting  the  brandy  glass 
slowly  in  her  white  fingers. 

"  I  know  enough  of  the  Hume  blood,"  she  said 
presently,  "  to  make  a  close  guess  at  the  man's  char 
acter.  We  are  not  related,  even  distantly,  for 
nothing,  Mr.  Shandon.  My  mother  was  a  Hume," 
she  added  coolly,  her  manner  again  reminding  the 
man  strangely  of  Hume  himself.  '  You  see,  he 
chose  the  wrong  woman  when  he  cheated  me.  It's 
going  to  be  diamond  cut  diamond  now." 

Shandon  looked  at  the  girl  curiously,  failing  to 
see  what  mad  hope  she  could  have  of  regaining 
rights  that  were  deeded  away  a  year  ago,  failing 
as  well  to  find  a  reason  for  her  coming  all  these 
miles  to  make  a  confidant  of  him. 

"  I  usually  go  about  things  in  my  own  way,"  she 


"  WHAT'S  THE  ANSWER?"         231 

said  after  one  of  her  brief  pauses.  "  What  I  have 
to  say  I'll  say  as  it  comes  to  me.  In  case  your 
cousin  Garth  returns  before  I  have  done  you  can 
send  him  away  upon  any  pretext  you  choose.  Tell 
him  we  want  to  talk  privately;  that  will  do  as  well 
as  anything.  Smoke,  if  you  want  to,"  as  she  saw 
his  eyes  go  to  the  mantelpiece  where  an  old  black 
pipe  lay.  "  Maybe  it  will  make  you  patient  during 
my  harangue." 

Wayne  got  his  pipe  and,  lighting  it,  sat  upon  the 
edge  of  the  table  looking  down  at  her  through  the 
smoke. 

"  Six  months  ago,"  she  went  on,  "  I  realised  that 
Hume  had  underpaid  me.  Why?"  She  shrugged 
her  shoulders.  "  I  knew  his  breed.  If  he  offers  a 
dollar  for  a  thing  it's  worth  ten.  I  made  investiga 
tions  through  an  agent  who  came  up  to  Dry  Valley 
from  San  Francisco.  He  turned  in  his  bill  on  time 
and  that  was  about  all.  He  was  an  ordinary  man 
and  consequently  a  fool.  But,  blind  as  a  bat  him 
self,  he  showed  me  a  little  light  that  set  me  think 
ing.  A  few  days  ago  I  came  out  myself."  She 
snapped  her  fingers.  "  It  didn't  take  me  that  long 
to  get  to  the  bottom  of  the  whole  thing." 

"What  thing?" 

"  The  scheme  Hume  is  promoting  on  the  quiet 
to  put  water  on  the  Dry  Lands.  The  water  is  to 
come  from  your  river.  Are  you  in  on  the  deal 
too?" 

Her  question  was  as  sudden  as  a  sword  thrust. 


232  THE  SHORT  CUT 

"  No,"  he  answered. 

"  Have  they  made  you  an  offer  for  the  water 
right  ?" 

"  No." 

"That's  funny."  She  frowned  thoughtfully  at 
him  a  moment,  saying  in  a  barely  audible  tone  as 
though  she  were  thinking  aloud,  "  You  don't  look 
as  though  you  were  lying.  Well,  you  expect  an 
offer,  don't  you?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  And  when  it  comes,  coming  from  Hume,  you 
realise  that  he'll  offer  a  very  small  fraction  of  what 
it  is  worth  to  him?  " 

"  I  suppose  so.     That's  business." 

"  And,  above  all  things  in  the  world,  Sledge  Hume 
is  a  business  man!  Well,  I  won't  ask  what  you'd 
do  when  the  offer  came,  as  you'd  say  that  it  was 
none  of  my  affair.  I've  seen  Ruf  Ettinger  and 
learned  all  he  knows." 

He  did  not  answer;  he  had  suddenly  resolved  to 
see  the  drift  of  Helga  Strawn's  thoughts  before  he 
did  a  great  deal  of  talking. 

"  I  have  learned,"  came  another  of  her  abrupt 
thrusts,  "  that  you  and  Hume  are  about  as  friendly 
as  a  cat  and  a  dog." 

He  merely  looked  at  her  enquiringly,  drawing 
thoughtfully  at  his  pipe.  She  smiled,  turned  from 
him  back  to  the  fire,  settling  a  little  more  comfort 
ably  in  her  chair. 

"  Hume  is  a  crook."     She  said  it  calmly,  dispas- 


"WHAT'S  THE  ANSWER?"         233 

sionately,  positively.  "  It  is  in  his  blood.  He 
couldn't  help  it  if  he  tried.  He  isn't  the  kind  to  try. 
The  deal  he  put  over  with  me  may  have  been  noth 
ing  but  clever  business.  On  the  other  hand,  con 
sidering  that  I  was  a  relative,  considering  that  there 
was  going  to  be  plenty  of  boodle  for  everybody, 
some  people  might  say  that  there  was  an  element 
of  dishonesty  in  it.  But  what  I  am  getting  at  is  that 
the  man  in  unscrupulous.  Now,  he's  in  the  biggest 
business  deal  of  his  life.  Chances  in  that  sort  of 
thing  for  crooked  work  are  many.  Ergo,  Mr. 
Shandon,  it's  a  fair  bet  that  starting  with  a  crooked 
deal  he  has  gone  on  playing  a  crooked  game.  Do 
you  begin  to  see  why  I'm  here?" 

"  Blackmail?  "  he  said  bluntly. 

"  Yes,"  she  said  coolly.  "  There's  no  use  quar 
relling  over  a  name." 

"  If  you  imagine  that  I  know  anything  about  the 
man's  private  history  — " 

"  You've  quarrelled  openly  with  him.  Every 
body  knows  about  it.  What  was  the  reason  for 
your  quarrel?  " 

"Really,  Miss  Strawn— " 

'  Why  can't  you  talk  to  me  as  if  I  were  a  man?  " 
she  flared  out  at  him,  the  sudden  heat  from  a  woman 
who  had  been  ice  a  moment  ago  taking  him  by  sur 
prise.  "  I'm  not  dragging  my  sex  into  this  like  a 
buckler  to  hide  behind.  Why  can't  you  say  it's 
none  of  my  damned  business,  if  you  feel  that  way 
about  it?" 


234  THE  SHORT  CUT 

"  I  shouldn't  put  it  quite  so  strong,"  he  replied. 
"  If  you  will  go  on  and  show  me  how  I  can  be  of 
any  service  to  you,  anything  in  my  line  — " 

"Consequently  excluding  blackmail!"  she 
laughed,  her  mood  like  ice  again.  ''  When  you 
quarrelled  with  Hume  a  year  ago  you  called  him  a 
crook,  didn't  you?  " 

"  Your  investigations  seem  to  have  been  maae 
very  painstakingly,"  he  countered. 

"  For  one  of  your  reputation  you  are  surprisingly 
noncommittal,"  she  said.  ic  Will  you  tell  me  this : 
So  far  as  you  know  is  there  a  woman  in  Sledge 
Hume's  life?" 

u  So  far  as  I  know  there  is  not.  He  doesn't  im 
press  me  as  the  sort  of  man  to  lose  either  his  heart 
or  his  head  over  a  woman." 

"  That  sort  of  man,"  she  replied  swiftly,  "  very 
often  surprises  people  who  think  that  they  under 
stand  human  nature,  and  don't!  Now  I  come  to 
one  of  my  reasons  in  coming  to  see  you.  I  saw 
you  one  day  at  the  Grand  Central  Station  with  a 
friend  of  mine,  a  Mr.  Maddox.  I  was  uncertain 
whether  he  had  pointed  me  out  to  you  or  not,  told 
you  who  I  was.  Did  he?" 

"  No.     I  should  have  remembered." 

"  Thank  you.  That's  the  first  pretty  thing 
you've  said!  Well,  no  harm  is  done  in  making 
sure.  I'm  making  sure  of  every  little  point  as  I 
go  along,  Mr.  Shandon.  I  didn't  want  there  to  be 


"WHAT'S  THE  ANSWER?"         235 

a  possibility  of  any  one  here  knowing  who  I  am. 
It  is  my  own  business  and  I  hope  that  I  am  not  ask 
ing  overmuch  if  I  request  you  not  to  tell  any  one 
that  I  am  Helga  Strawn." 

He  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  If  you  don't  want  Hume  to  know  you  I  most 
certainly  shall  not  seek  to  find  or  take  advantage  of 
an  opportunity  to  tell  him." 

"  Thank  you  again.  Now,  for  the  other  part  of 
my  business  with  you.  You  are  in  a  position  to 
stand  pat  and  by  just  doing  nothing  smash  Sledge 
Hume's  little  game  all  to  flinders.  He's  counted 
on  you,  he's  made  sure  in  some  way  I  don't  know. 
But  I  am  going  to  know  before  long.  And  I'm 
going  to  get  Sledge  Hume  just  where  I  want  him! 
How?  Wait  and  see.  I'm  going  to  get  back  the 
property  he  cheated  me  out  of.  How?  I  don't 
know  and  I  don't  care.  And  then — " 

She  rose  swiftly,  her  eyes  blazing,  her  head  lifted 
triumphantly  as  though  already  she  had  met  the  suc 
cess  she  had  set  out  to  find. 

"  And  then,  Wayne  Shandon,  you  and  I  and  Ruf 
Ettinger  can  take  into  our  hands  the  thing  that 
Sledge  Hume  has  already  half  created  for  us! 
There  is  a  fortune  in  it  for  every  one  of  us." 

"  I've  told  Ruf  Ettinger  already  — "  he  began. 

The  door  opened  suddenly  and  Mr.  Dart  came 
into  the  £oom. 

"  Say,  Red,"  he  began  with  an  important  air,  "  I 


236  THE  SHORT  CUT 

want  to  see  you  a  minute,  private.  Hazel  will  ex 
cuse  us,  won't  you?  "  with  a  rare  smile  and  an  ab 
breviated  bow  after  Mr.  Dart's  best  manner. 

"  Hazel?  "  frowned  Shandon. 

"Sure,"  grinned  Dart.  "  We  got  chummy  as 
twins  riding  over,  didn't  we?  Come  on,  Red. 
This  here  is  urgent." 

"  It  will  have  to  wait,  Dart.     Miss  — " 

"  Hazleton,"  prompted  Helga. 

"  Sure,"  put  in  Dart.  "  Her  uncle  used  to  know 
my  aunt  in  Poughkeepsie.  Come  on,  Red." 

"  Dart,"  cried  Shandon,  "  you  get  out!  We  are 
busy."- 

Dart  went  slowly  back  to  the  door,  to  the  sur 
prise  of  Shandon  who  knew  so  well  the  little  man's 
tenacity. 

"  Oh,  well,"  he  said  mournfully  from  across  the 
room.  "  Only  Wanda  said  — " 

"  You  will  excuse  me  a  moment?  "  Wayne  asked 
hurriedly.  Dart,  already  outside  was  grinning 
broadly. 

"What  is  it?"  queried  Shandon. 

"  Whatever  it  is  it'll  keep  until  we  get  where  we 
can  talk,"  was  the  dogged  answer.  "  There's  no 
body  in  the  bunk  house.  Come  on." 

He  hastened  down  the  steps,  Wayne  following 
him.  Only  when  they  were  in  the  bunk  house,  the 
door  closed,  the  lamp  lighted,  did  Dart  speak. 

"  First  thing,"  he  said  abruptly,  "  Hazel's  name 
begins  with  an  H,  but  she  spells  it  Helga !  " 


"  WHAT'S  THE  ANSWER?  "         237 

"  You  little  weasel!  Well,  what  about  it?  And 
what  about  Miss  Leland?  " 

u  Wanda's  part  will  keep.  Gee,  Red,  she's  some 
swell  dame,  that  Egyptian  skirt,  take  it  from  me! 
She's  got  Macbeth's  frau  of  the  fairy  tale  faded  to 
a  finish,  ain't  she?  " 

"  Look  here,  Dart  .  .  ." 

"  It's  cold  weather,"  interrupted  Dart.  "  Keep 
your  undershirt  on,  Red.  When  your  brother 
Archie  mortgaged  the  Bar  L-M  .  .  ." 

"  WThat  fool's  nonsense  are  you  talking,  Dart?" 
demanded  Shandon.  "  Arthur  never  mortgaged  — " 

"  Uhuh.  I  thought  you  didn't  know  about  it. 
Now  I'm  here  to  tell  you  something  you  ought  to 
know.  I  guess  the  Weak  Sister  forgot  to  tell  you 
about  it.  Archie  mortgaged  the  Bar  L-M,  he 
socked  a  plaster  worth  twenty-five  thousand  dollars 
on  it,  the  day  before  somebody  put  him  out.  Get 
that?" 

Wayne  stared  at  him  wonderingly.  Suddenly  he 
shot  out  his  two  hands  and  gripped  Dart's  shoul 
ders,  jerking  the  little  man  toward  him  threaten 
ingly. 

"What's  your  game,  you  little  crook?  ,You  lie 
to  me  and  I'll  come  so  close  to  killing  you  we'll 
both  be  sorry." 

"  Listen  to  that  now,"  sighed  Dart.  "  When  one 
pal  tries  to  wise  another  up  — •" 

"  Talk  fast,"  said  Shandon  sternly.  "  What  are 
you  talking  about?" 


23 8  THE  SHORT  CUT 

"  Give  me  a  chance  to  breathe  and  I'll  spit  it  out. 
Your  brother  mortgaged  the  outfit  for  twenty-five 
thousand.  You  never  heard  about  it.  Some  guy 
who  was  wise  croaked  him.  Where's  the  twenty- 
five  thousand?  What's  the  answer?" 

"  Good  God!  "  muttered  Shandon. 

Dart,  suddenly  released,  moved  a  little  further 
away  and  smoothed  his  coat  collar. 

;'  The  mortgage  was  held  by  a  man  I  used  to  call 
a  pal,"  he  volunteered  further.  "  I  don't  call  him 
that  any  longer.  I  mean  old  Mart." 

"  Martin  Leland !  You  mean  to  tell  me  that 
Martin  Leland  held  a  mortgage  over  the  Bar  L-M 
for  twenty-five  thousand  dollars  and  that  I  never 
heard  of  it?" 

"Yep,"  answered  Dart  lightly.  "And  three 
months  ago  he  foreclosed.  Funny,  ain't  it?" 

"  It's  impossible.  It's  one  of  your  fool  lies, 
Dart." 

"  When  I  tell  a  lie,  Red,  I  don't  tell  that  kind. 
The  whole  thing  was  recorded  nice  and  proper.  All 
you  got  to  do  is  go  to  the  courthouse  and  look  it 
up.  I'd  go  for  you,  only  the  jail's  in  the  basement 
and  jails  always  give  me  a  cold.  Or,  you  can  go 
ask  the  Weak  Sister.  He'll  know  about  it.  You 
gave  him  your  power  of  attorney,  didn't  you?  Oh, 
he'll  know,  all  right." 

The  two  men  stared  at  each  other  fixedly,  the 
eyes  of  one  frowning  and  penetrating,  those  of  the 
other  round  and  innocent. 


'  WHAT'S  THE  ANSWER?"         239 

"  I  believe  you  are  telling  the  truth,"  said  Shan- 
don  slowly.  "  I  don't  see  why  you'd  lie  about  a 
thing  like  this  —  How  do  you  know  anything  about 
it?  "  he  asked  suddenly. 

"How  do  I  know  Hazel's  name  is  Helga?" 
smiled  Dart.  "  There's  tricks  in  every  trade, 
Red." 

"  If  this  thing  is  true  — " 

"  Go  talk  to  the  Weak  Sister,"  said  Dart  briefly. 

Wayne  swung  about  and  without  reply  went 
swiftly  down  toward  the  corrals.  Suddenly  he 
stopped  and  came  back. 

"  You  didn't  tell  me  what  Miss  Leland  said,"  he 
said  shortly. 

Dart  laughed  in  great  amusement. 

"  She  didn't  say  anything.  She's  sore  as  a  goat, 
though,  Red.  This  Helga  business  sort  of  got  on 
her  nerves." 

Then  Shandon  went  hurriedly  toward  the  corrals. 

"  Me,"  mused  Dart,  on  his  way  to  entertain  Miss 
Helga  Strawn  during  what  might  be  a  period  of 
lonely  waiting  for  her,  "  I'm  almost  chicken-hearted 
enough  to  feel  sorry  for  the  Weak  Sister!  " 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

THE    TRUTH 

GARTH!" 
There  was  a  peculiar  sternness  in  Wayne 
Shandon's  voice  that  made  his  cousin 
start  in  a  way  which,  to  Shandon's  taut  nerves, 
seemed  instantly  a  sign  of  guilt.  Conway  finished 
the  work  he  was  doing,  snapped  the  heavy  padlock 
into  the  log  chain,  which  fastened  the  double  doors 
of  the  small  building  where  odds  and  ends  were 
stored  during  the  winter,  and  came  on  through  the 
snow,  smiting  his  hands  together  to  get  the  chilled 
blood  running. 

"  Hello,  Wayne,"  he  answered.     "  What's  up?  " 

"  That's  what  I  want  to  know,"  briefly.  "  What 
do  you  know  about  a  mortgage  on  the  Bar  L-M?  " 

It  was  too  dark  for  Shandon  to  see  the  other's 
face  clearly.  He  noticed  that  Garth  hesitated  just 
a  second  before  answering. 

"  What  do  you  mean?  "  Conway's  voice  sought 
to  be  confident  and  failed.  Shandon's  fist  snapped 
shut  involuntarily.  It  was  almost,  he  thought,  as  if 
Garth  had  answered  him  directly. 

"I  mean  just  this:  Did  you  know  that  the  Bar 
L-M  was  mortgaged  to  Martin  Leland  for  twenty- 
five  thousand  dollars?" 

240 


THE  [TRUTH  241 

Garth  Conway  would  not  have  been  himself  but 
some  very  different  man  had  there  not  been  a  con 
siderable  pause  before  he  replied. 

"  Yes,"  he  said  at  last,  a  little  doggedly.  "  I 
knew  it." 

"Arthur  mortgaged  it  the  day  he  was  killed? 
Or  the  day  before?" 

"  Yes." 

"  And  the  mortgage  was  foreclosed  three  months 
ago?" 

"  Yes." 

"And  you  never  told  me  about  it!     Why?  " 

"  I  should  have  done  so,  I  suppose,"  Garth  said 
nervously.  "  But  —  Well,  the  first  thing  you  hit 
out  for  the  East.  You  weren't  attending  to  busi 
ness  then,  Wayne.  You  wrote  me  to  take  charge 
of  everything,  not  to  bother  you  with  ranch  affairs. 
You  gave  me  a  power  of  attorney  — " 

"  I've  been  back  half  a  year,"  said  Shandon 
shortly.  "  I've  been  attending  to  business.  Why 
haven't  you  told  me?  " 

Conway  drew  back  a  quick  step  as  though  he 
feared  from  his  cousin's  harsh  voice  that  physical 
violence  would  follow. 

"  I  didn't  think  of  it,"  he  said  weakly,  and  at  the 
same  time  with  a  pitiful  attempt  at  defiance. 

"You  lie!" 

The  words  came  distinctly  enunciated,  cold  and 
hard,  a  little  pause  separating  the  two  syllables  so 
that  each  cut  like  a  stab. 


242  THE  SHORT  CUT 

"  Look  here,  Wayne,"  Garth  said  stiffly,  "  if  you, 
who  have  never  done  a  single  thing  seriously  in  your 
life  want  to  get  sore  because  I  have  neglected  a 
matter  of  no  pressing  importance  — " 

"Good  Lord!"  cried  Wayne.  "  No  pressing 
importance !  You'd  handle  my  business  for  me, 
keep  all  knowledge  of  a  foreclosure  from  me,  until 
the  year  of  redemption  had  passed?  You'd  let 
Martin  Leland  close  me  out,  would  you?  You  and 
Hume  and  Leland  would  take  the  water  from  the 
river.  Good  God!  I  never  thought  this  sort  of 
thing  of  you  or  Leland!  You'd  all  get  rich  by 
smashing  me,  and  then  you,  you  two-faced  little 
cur,  would  buy  the  Bar  L-M  back  from  Leland  for 
nothing,  with  money  you'd  taken  from  Arthur  and 
me!  Why,  you  petit  larceny  sneak,  I  don't  know 
why  I  am  talking  with  you  instead  of  slapping  your 
dirty  face!  " 

"  If  you  will  talk  reasonably — " 

"  Talk  reasonably?  You're  damned  right  I  will! 
Why  did  Arthur  borrow  twenty-five  thousand  dol 
lars  to  begin  with?  What  went  with  it?  Who 
got  it?" 

"  I  don't  know  what  he  wanted  it  for,"  snapped 
Garth.  "  I  don't  know  what  went  with  it.  I  sup 
pose  the  man  who  murdered  him  robbed  him,  too." 

"  You  don't  mean  he  had  a  sum  like  that  with  him 
in  cash?  " 

"  Yes.  He  insisted  upon  it.  I  was  with  Leland 
when  the  money  was  turned  over." 


THE  [TRUTH  243 

"  And  you  —  forgot  —  to  tell  me  that !  " 

Conway,  though  his  lips  moved,  made  no  audible 
reply.  Wayne  stood  staring  at  him  a  moment,  his 
face  white  with  passion.  Suddenly  he  cried  out  in 
a  voice  shaking  with  fury  as  he  lifted  one  hand 
high  above  his  head  and  brought  it  smashing  down 
into  his  open  palm. 

"  Get  off  of  the  place !  "  he  shoutecl  "  Sneak 
back  to  Leland;  go  whimper  about  Sledge  Hume's 
legs.  Tell  Leland  that  I  said  that  you  are  a  damned 
scoundrel  and  that  he's  another !  Tell  him  that  I 
said  that  I  am  going  to  make  the  whole  thieving 
pack  of  you  eat  out  of  my  hand  before  I  let  up  on 
you.  And  now,  for  God's  sake,  go !  " 

He  whirled  and  went  back  to  the  house  with  long 
strides.  He  flung  wide  the  door,  and  as  he  came 
swiftly  to  the  fireplace,  his  face  still  white  and  hard, 
he  thrust  out  his  hand  to  Helga  Strawn,  grasping 
hers  as  though  it  had  been  a  man's. 

"  I'm  with  you,"  he  said  crisply.  "  I'll  see  Ruf 
Ettinger  myself  to-morrow." 

Her  eyes  which  had  been  frowning  during  Dart's 
latest  attempt  to  be  entertaining,  grew  suddenly 
brilliant,  her  cheeks  flushed  happily. 

"  Dart,"  Wayne,  continued,  turning  to  the  little 
man  who  had  begun  nodding  his  head  approvingly 
when  Wayne's  shoulder  had  struck  the  door  and 
who  was  still  nodding,  "  youVe  done  me  a  good  turn 
to-night.  I'm  not  ungrateful.  But  Miss  — " 

"  Hazleton,"  prompted  Dart 


244  THE  SHORT  CUT 

u —  will  have  to  be  going  right  away  and  I  want 
to  talk  with  her  alone." 

"  Sure,"  agreed  Dart.  "  I'll  get  my  book  and 
go  down  to  the  bunk  house.  I'm  reading  a  swell 
story  about  a  guy  named  Jupiter  and  a  skirt 
named — " 

For  the  first  and  only  time  on  record  Willie  Dart 
stopped  his  flow  of  words  because  of  the  look  he 
saw  on  a  man's  face.  He  went  out  snatching  his 
book  from  the  table  as  he  passed.  On  his  way  to 
the  bunk  house  he  stopped  long  enough  to  shake  his 
head  and  rub  his  chin. 

"  I'm  giving  odds,  ten  to  one,"  he  reflected,  "  that 
the  Weak  Sister  don't  loaf  around  here  all  night 
counting  snowflakes." 

"  Something  has  happened,  Mr.  Shandon,"  Helga 
said  sharply. 

Shandon  laughed  shortly  and  picked  up  his  pipe. 

UA  great  deal  has  happened,"  he  told  her. 
"  I've  been  a  fool  and  an  overgrown  baby  long 
enough.  Let's  get  down  to  business.  You  can't 
stay  here  all  night." 

She  shrugged  her  shoulders. 

"  For  want  of  a  chaperon,  I  suppose?  I'm  not 
worried  about  what  people  say  or  think,  Mr.  Shan 
don.  And,  besides,  there's  no  place  to  go." 

"  You  can't  stay,  any  way,"  he  answered  a  little 
roughly.  "  You  can  get  back  to  the  Leland  place. 
They'll  keep  you  over  night.  Now,  let's  get  this 


THE  TRUTH  245 

thing  straight.     You  hope  to  get  back  your  prop 
erty  from  Hume?  " 

Swiftly  their  roles  had  changed;  he  was  dominant 
now,  he  asked  his  question  in  a  tone  that  demanded 
an  answer  and  she  gave  the  answer. 

"  Yes." 

"How?" 

"  I  can't  tell  you  definitely.  If  you'll  come  to  me 
in  two  weeks  or  a  month  I  can  tell  you.  For  one 
thing,  Hume  is  a  man,  I  am  a  woman." 

"  You  are  going  to  try  to  make  him  fall  in  love 
with  you?  " 

"  Other  men  have  done  it,"  she  said  indifferently. 

"  Other  men  are  not  Sledge  Hume.  But  that  is 
your  end  of  it.  I  am  going  to  tie  up  Ruf  Ettinger 
and  any  other  stragglers  I  can  get  my  hands  on. 
If  you  can  get  back  the  property  we'll  take  you  in. 
We'll  form  a  company,  we'll  pool  our  interests. 
We'll  force  these  other  fellows  to  sell  to  us  at  our 
own  figure,  by  the  Lord!  I've  got  the  water!  " 

"  If  I  could  force  Sledge  Hume  to  sell  his  inher 
ited  interest  to  me,"  she  cried,  "  if  I  could  make  him 
sell  to  me  as  I  sold  to  him,  for  a  wretched  twenty- 
five  thousand  dollars  — " 

"What!"  he  broke  in  excitedly.  "How  much 
did  Hume  pay  you?  " 

4  Twenty-five   thousand.     Why?"   curiously. 

"When?" 

"  I  remember  the  date  exactly." 


246  THE  SHORT  CUT 

She  told  him.  It  was  barely  two  weeks  after  the 
death  of  Arthur  Shandon. 

Sudden  suspicion  in  Wayne  Shandon's  brain  had 
sprung  full  grown  into  positive  certainty. 

"  If  you  can't  get  your  property  back  one  way," 
was  the  last  thing  he  said,  "  I  can  get  it  for  you  in 
another.  Helga  Strawn,  you  had  better  leave 
Sledge  Hume  to  me." 


CHAPTER  XIX 

SHANDON  TAKES   HIS   STAND 

DART  had  been  quite  right  concerning  the  ac 
tions  of  Garth  Conway.  It  hardly  required 
a  clairvoyant  mother  for  any  man  who  knew 
both  Conway  and  Wayne  Shandon  to  predict  the 
haste  with  which  Conway  saddled  and  left  the  Bar 
L-M,  nor  the  direction  he  went. 

"  Old  Mart's  going  to  sleep  restless  to-night," 
mused  Dart,  to  whom  the  adventures  of  a  guy  named 
Jupiter,  and  a  skirt  who  shall  be  nameless,  no  longer 
appealed.  "  Them  haymakers  don't  know  enough 
to  walk  crooked  and  cover  their  tracks  the  same 
time.  Now  with  Red  on  the  war  path,  and  me 
shaping  his  play  right  along  — " 

He  grew  deeply  thoughtful  over  the  delightful 
possibilities  unfolding  to  his  highly  coloured  imagi 
nation.  There  was  going  to  be  something  doing 
now  that  would  put  an  edge  to  this  dull  life.  With 
what  was  equivalent  to  a  lining  up  of  forces  and  an 
open  declaration  of  hostilities,  with  Red  on  the  one 
hand  pitted  against  the  trio  whom  Dart  called  the 
Haymakers,  with  a  murder  mystery  to  untangle,  a 
robbery  to  solve,  and  —  not  to  be  forgotten  — 
Little  Saxon  guarded  through  the  winter  months  so 
that  a  winning  horserace  could  be  run  in  the  spring, 

247 


248  THE  SHORT  CUT 

Mr.  Dart  looked  forward  happily  to  a  very  busy 
time.  Then  there  was  the  Dry  Valley  irrigation 
scheme  of  which  his  limited  knowledge  must  be 
enlarged  immediately,  in  order  that  he  might 
"  scrape  up  a  few  beans  and  get  them  down  while 
the  game  was  wide  open."  And  there  was  Helga 
Strawn. 

"  I  wouldn't  have  missed  this  here,"  said  Mr. 
Dart  solemnly,  nodding  his  head  at  a  picture  in  his 
book  of  a  lady  without  arms  or  superfluous  clothing, 
"  not  for  the  boodle  of  a  U.  S.  senator." 

He  went  to  the  bunk  house  door  in  time  to  see 
Garth  riding  out  of  the  corral,  his  horse  flounder 
ing  awkwardly  in  the  drifts  that  were  steadily  piling 
higher.  Dart  spat  contemptuously. 

"  A  measly  little  cur,"  he  declared  softly. 
"  Crooked  just  because  he  ain't  got  the  guts  to  go 
straight.  Them's  the  worst  kind.  They  get 
scared  stiff  and  shoot  you  when  you  come  in  late, 
thinking  you're  a  second-story  artist,  and  then 
they're  sorry.  Chances  are  he's  repenting  right 
now  and  wishing  he  was  dead  and  by  morning  he'll 
be  doing  the  knife  act  some  more." 

While  Dart  meditated,  planned  and  philoso 
phised,  Wayne  Shandon  prepared  a  quick  meal  for 
Helga  Strawn. 

"  I  know  you're  done  up  already,"  he  said,  "  but 
it  can't  be  helped.  You've  got  to  get  back  to  the 
Echo  Creek  to-night,  if  for  no  other  reason  because 


SHANDON  TAKES  HIS  STAND      249 

it  may  be  the  last  chance  you'll  have  to  get  out  at 
all." 

"  You  mean  the  snow?  " 

"  Yes.  A  horse  can  carry  you  through  to-night; 
to-morrow,  if  this  keeps  up,  the  poor  brute  would 
have  his  work  cut  out  to  get  through  alone.  If 
you'll  help  yourself  and  see  that  your  clothes  are 
good  and  dry  I'll  go  out  and  get  the  horses  ready." 

"  Horses?     You  are  going  with  me?  " 

"  No,"  he  said  emphatically.  "  I  haven't  been 
going  to  Mr.  Leland's  home  for  a  long  time.  After 
what  I  have  learned  to-night  I  suppose  that  I'll 
never  go  there  again.  I  am  going  to  send  Dart 
with  you." 

"What  have  you  learned?"  she  asked  quickly. 
"  You  mean  what  I  have  told  you?  " 

"  No.  It  is  something  which  I  am  afraid  I  can't 
talk  about  just  yet,  Miss  Strawn.  Now,  if  you  will 
excuse  me  a  minute?" 

He  went  down  to  the  stable,  saw  that  both  Hel- 
ga's  horse  and  Old  Bots  had  a  feeding  of  barley, 
and  fed  his  own  saddle  animal. 

11  I'll  have  to  fight  my  way  out  on  webs  to 
morrow,"  he  mused.  "  I  can  lead  you  until  we  get 
across  the  ridge  where  the  snow  will  be  lighter." 

Then  he  went  to  Dart  in  the  bunk  house. 

"  Dart,"  he  called  abruptly,  "  you'd  better  come 
up  to  the  house  and  get  something  to  eat.  Then 
you've  got  to  get  ready  to  ride." 


250  THE  SHORT  CUT 

"Ride?"    demanded    Dart,    a    little    anxiously. 
*  You  mean  me  and  Old  Bots  and  the  chariot?  " 

'  You  can't  make  it,"  Shandon  told  him  positively. 
"  I  don't  know  how  you  managed  to  get  back  from 
the  Echo  Creek  with  the  cart.  You'll  have  to  go 
on  horseback  now,  whether  you  like  it  or  not." 

"Where  am  I  going,  Chief?" 

"  tTo  the  Leland's.  Miss  Hazleton  is  going  back 
and  I  want  you  to  go  with  her.  You'd  have  to  go 
in  the  morning  anyway  and  it  will  be  easier  if  you 
go  right  away.  And  I  want  you  to  do  something 
for  me." 

"Love's  little  messenger  again?"  grinned  Dart. 
"  Gee,  Red,  I'm  turning  into  a  regular  carrier 
pigeon." 

"  I  am  going  to  write  a  short  note  to  Miss  Le- 
land,"  Shandon  went  on  quietly.  "  I  want  you  to 
give  it  to  her  to-night.  And  I  don't  want  anybody 
to  see  you  do  it.  Will  you  do  that  for  me?  " 

"Did  I  ever  turn  a  pal  down?"  reproachfully. 
"  But,  say,  Red;  I'm  just  healed  up  good  from  my 
ride  in  here  last  summer.  Can't  I  walk?  " 

Shandon  laughed  and  the  two  men  hurried  to 
gether  back  to  the  house.  Helga,  who  was  still 
eating,  looked  up  at  them  with  frank  curiosity  as 
they  came  in.  Her  eyes  rested  longest  upon  Dart; 
her  contempt  for  him  had  passed  or  else  she  had 
resolved  to  hide  it  and  appear  friendly.  Through 
the  brief  meal  he  strove  constantly  to  be  entertain 
ing,  and  his  little  sallies  which  had  formerly  elicited 


SHANDON  TAKES  HIS  STAND      251 

nothing  beyond  her  silent  contempt  now  provoked 
her  ready  laughter. 

"  It  ain't  a  little  jolt  of  brandy  that  made  the 
difference,  either,"  Dart  informed  himself  thought 
fully  in  the  midst  of  an  enthusiastic  recital  of  the 
gallant  way  in  which  his  pal,  Red,  had  saved  him 
from  a  horrible  death  in  some  wonderful  land  whose 
geographical  location  he  failed  to  make  perfectly 
clear.  "  She's  wise  I'm  the  gent  with  a  noodle  full 
of  things  she's  dying  to  know.  Red  ain't  told  her 
what  I  told  him.  We're  sure  going  to  have  an 
awful  chummy  time  on  our  jingle  bell  party  back 
to  old  Mart's." 

And  he  went  on  with  his  tale  until  Wayne  re 
turning  from  the  kitchen  stopped  him. 

Shandon  had  written  his  note  and  gave  it  to 
Dart  as  the  two  men  went  out  to  saddle  the  horses. 
Ten  minutes  later  Helga  Strawn  and  her  guide  left 
the  Bar  L-M.  During  the  long  ride,  although  Dart 
seemed  the  most  ingenuous  of  creatures,  Helga 
Strawn  obtained  no  satisfactory  report  of  the  news 
which  he  had  brought  and  which  had  so  obviously 
steeled  Shandon's  will. 

An  hour  before  they  came  to  the  Echo  Creek  the 
snow  ceased  abruptly  and  it  began  to  rain. 

When  at  last  they  reached  the  ranch  house  the 
girl  was  clinging  wearily  to  the  horn  of  her  saddle, 
drenched  to  the  skin,  her  face  pinched  and  white  and 
drawn  from  cold  and  the  hardest  day's  physical 
work  her  woman's  body  had  ever  buffeted  through. 


252  THE  SHORT  CUT 

When  Dart  glanced  at  her  in  the  lamplight  of  the 
living  room  he  filed  a  swift  mental  note  of  the  fact 
that  what  Helga  Strawn  set  out  to  do  she  was  very 
likely  to  accomplish.  For  her  eyes,  their  brilliancy 
undimmed,  their  calculating  penetration  unaltered, 
told  of  a  fighting  spirit  which  no  bodily  fatigue 
could  touch. 

There  had  been  only  two  lights  burning  in  the 
house;  one  in  Martin's  private  room  from  which 
came  the  voices  of  Garth  Conway  and  Leland  him 
self;  one  in  Wanda's  bedroom.  But  at  Dart's 
knock  both  Wanda  and  her  mother  hastened  to  re 
ceive  them,  replenished  the  fireplace  until  it  roared 
lustily  in  its  deep  throat,  found  warm,  dry  clothing 
and  hot  drinks,  and  made  them  comfortable  for  the 
night.  If  Wanda  were  "  sore  "  as  Dart  had  ex 
pressed  it,  she  did  not  in  any  way  give  evidence  of 
it. 

"  Them  ginneys  that  go  chasing  off  to  climb  the 
North  Pole,"  was  Dart's  cheery  comment  as  he 
reappeared  from  a  brief  absence  in  the  kitchen, 
"  ain't  going  to  find  me  choking  up  the  trail  in  front 
of  'em.  This  here  is  good  enough  for  me." 

In  the  kitchen  he  had  changed  his  own  outer, 
soaked  clothing  for  a  suit  of  Martin's  which  Mrs. 
Leland  had  given  him,  and  now  the  general  effect 
of  his  appearance  was  that  of  a  very  small  boy  in  a 
very  large  hat.  But  he  had  not  forgotten  to  trans 
fer  Wayne's  note  with  the  transfer  of  garments. 
And  when  Wanda  left  the  room  presently  for  the 


SHANDON  TAKES  HIS  STAND      253 

sandwich  Dart  had  requested  he  followed  her,  his 
coat  and  trousers  seeming  to  flow  about  him  and  after 
him  with  a  will  of  their  own. 

"  Love  and  kisses  from  Red,"  he  whispered, 
handing  her  the  note. 

And  be  it  said  to  the  credit  of  Mr.  Willie  Dart 
that,  although  he  had  been  perfectly  aware  that 
there  was  a  steaming  kettle  of  water  on  the  kitchen 
stove,  his  haste  had  been  so  great  to  deliver  the 
message  that  he  had  not  taken  time  to  avail  himself 
of  the  opportunity. 

That  night  Wanda  went  quietly  about  her  prep 
aration  for  to-morrow.  Her  skis,  gathering  dust 
in  the  attic,  were  brought  down,  cleaned  and  given 
the  thin  coat  of  shellac  which,  drying  by  morning, 
would  put  them  in  shape.  A  glance  outdoors 
showed  her  that  it  had  stopped  raining  and  was  clear 
and  cold.  There  would  be  a  good  crust  formed 
during  the  night.  Shandon's  note,  which  she  read 
more  than  once,  ran :  — 

"  Dear  Wanda  —  Will  you  try  to  meet  me  at  your  cliff 
to-morrow?  I  have  something  which  I  must  tell  you. 

"  WAYNE." 

All  night,  waking  or  sleeping,  Wanda  was  restless 
and  worried.  She  had  guessed  swiftly  that  the 
thing  Wayne  was  going  to  tell  her  had  something 
to  do  with  Helga  Strawn;  it  might  also  have  some 
thing  to  do  with  Garth  and  Martin  Leland.  Garth 


254  THE  SHORT  CUT 

had  been  strangely  agitated  when  he  burst  into  the 
house.  Then  he  and  her  father  were  closeted  for 
a  long  time  in  the  study,  their  voices  at  times  raised 
in  what  sounded  like  anger,  at  times  lowered  almost 
to  whispers.  She  knew  that  Martin  had  gone  out 
to  the  men's  quarters,  that  Jim  had  saddled  his 
horse  and  ridden  away  upon  some  errand  which 
must  have  been  born  of  Garth's  coming.  She  felt 
that  it  all  was  in  some  way  connected  with  Wayne 
Shandon  and  she  was  a  little  afraid. 

In  the  morning,  as  Wanda  made  her  early  break 
fast  alone,  a  glance  outside  at  the  white  world 
showed  her  that  where  there  had  been  jagged  rocks 
and  logs  strewn  upon  the  hillsides,  now  there  were 
only  smooth  mounds.  Tree  stumps  and  fences, 
their  identity  already  lost,  were  hooded  things  that 
in  another  two  days  would  be  completely  covered 
and  hidden. 

The  girl  buckled  her  arctics  upon  her  warmly 
stockinged  feet,  drew  her  hood  down  ove.  %er  ears, 
strapped  on  her  skis  and  slipped  on  her  mittens 
before  she  left  the  kitchen.  From  the  back  door 
which  in  summer  was  three  feet  above  ground  she 
pushed  her  way  out  upon  the  level  snow.  Then, 
through  a  white  world  of  silence  she  moved  quietly 
through  the  clear,  crisp  morning. 

She  arrived  early  at  the  cliffs,  but  already  Shan 
don,  although  he  had  travelled  further,  was  before 
her.  For  the  last  quarter  of  a  mile  she  had  travelled 
in  the  deeper  tracks,  which  his  broader  skis  and 


SHANDON  TAKES  HIS  STAND      255 

heavier  weight  had  made.  Already  he  had  gone 
ahead  of  her  up  the  great  cedar,  as  she  saw  by  the 
branches  from  which  he  had  scraped  the  snow.  And 
when  she  came  to  the  top  and  peeped  into  the  cave 
she  saw  him  piling  wood  upon  the  fire  he  had  blaz 
ing  to  welcome  her. 

"  God    bless    you,"    he    said    tenderly.     "  You 


came." 


"  Of  course  I  came,"  she  answered.  "  Now  tell 
me,  Wayne.  What  is  it?  " 

First  he  made  her  draw  off  her  sweater  and 
arctics  and  take  the  stool  he  placed  at  the  fire  for 
her. 

"  Wanda,"  he  began,  at  last,  "  IVe  got  some 
thing  to  tell  you  that's  going  to  be  hard  telling.  I 
have  hoped  all  along  that  things  would  smooth 
themselves  out  for  us,  that  in  due  time  your  father 
would  come  to  see  that  neither  he  nor  any  other  man 
has  the  right  to  stand  in  the  way  of  our  happiness. 
But  no\,rj?  dea/,  there  is  no  hope  of  that.  Matters 
are  bad  enough  now,  God  knows.  And  they  are 
going  to  get  worse.  Do  you  love  me  very  much, 
Wanda?" 

'  You  know  that  I  do,"  she  answered  sim 
ply. 

"  So  much  that  you  could  cleave  to  me  through 
everything?  Even  when  the  unpleasantness  which 
already  exists  between  your  father  and  me  grows 
into  positive,  hard,  open  opposition?  On  my  part 
as  well  as  his?  " 


256  THE  SHORT  CUT 

"  Is  it  so  bad  as  that,  Wayne  ?  "  she  asked,  her 
eyes  darkening  a  little. 

"  Yes,"  he  answered  bitterly.  "  It  is  worse  than 
you  know.  .You  will  find  it  as  hard  to  believe  as  I 
found  it." 

;t  Tell  me."  She  looked  up  at  him  bravely 
enough,  but  he  knew  how  this  thing  hurt  her,  and 
how  it  was  going  to  hurt  her  when  he  told  every 
thing.  Hastily,  to  have  it  over  with,  he  repeated 
Dart's  story  and  told  of  the  quarrel  with  Garth. 

"  I  believe,"  he  said  slowly,  "  that  Dart  told  me 
the  truth  throughout.  I  don't  know  how  he  found 
it  out,  but  in  part  I  know  he  was  right.  Arthur 
mortgaged  the  Bar  L-M  to  your  father  for  twenty- 
five  thousand  dollars.  You  know  how  I  went  away 
then,  how  I  authorised  Garth  to  act  for  me  just  as 
though  he  were  the  actual  owner  of  the  property. 
Dart  says  that  three  months  ago  the  mortgage  was 
foreclosed.  That  was  just  before  yc&ne  home.  I 
heard  nothing  of  it.  He  swears  that  he  saw  the 
sheriff's  certificate  of  sale  to  your  father.  In  Cali 
fornia  law  due  notice  must  be  served  upon  a  man 
whose  property  is  threatened  with  sale  to  satisfy 
the  holder  of  the  mortgage.  From  the  date  of 
that  sale  until  a  year  later  the  original  owner  has 
what  is  termed  a  year  of  redemption  during  which, 
at  any  time,  upon  his  paying  the  amount  of  the  mort 
gage  and  all  costs,  he  may  regain  his  property.  Do 
you  follow  me,  Wanda?  " 

"  Yes.     Go  on,  Wayne." 


SHANDON  TAKES  HIS  STAND      257 

"  Had  I  not  been  away,  had  I  not  furthermore 
given  to  Garth  my  power  of  attorney,  that  first 
service  of  notice  of  foreclosure  would  have  come  to 
me.  It  came  to  Garth  instead;  it  had  to  come  to 
him.  By  his  simply  ignoring  the  matter,  failing  to 
appear  in  court  or  to  be  represented  by  a  lawyer 
when  the  matter  was  called,  he  allowed  the  Bar 
JL-M  to  be  sold  to  pay  the  promissory  note  of 
twenty-five  thousand  given  by  Arthur  to  your  father. 
Your  father  bought  in  the  property  himself.  It  is 
now  his  and  not  mine;  it  would  become  absolutely 
his,  with  clear  title,  if  I  should  allow  this  year  of 
redemption  to  pass  without  paying  off  the  twenty- 
five  thousand  and  costs.  And  that  is  certainly  what 
would  have  happened  if  I  had  not  learned  of  the 
whole  wretched  deal,  through  Dart,  last  night." 

For  a  long  time  she  did  not  answer.  Even 
Wayne  Shandon,  who  thought  that  he  knew  how  the 
girl  loved  ar  1  \  nerated  her  father,  could  not  guess 
how  deeply  this  thing  cut  her.  Presently,  steadying 
her  voice,  she  said: 

"You  are  absolutely  sure  of  this,  Wayne?" 

"  No.  Not  in  every  detail.  But  in  enough  to 
make  me  more  than  ready  to  believe  it,  Wanda. 
Garth  himself  admitted  the  mortgage,  and  confessed 
that  he  had  known  of  it  all  along  from  the  day  it 
was  made,  and  said  he  knew  that  your  father  held 
it.  Why  didn't  he  tell  me?  Why  didn't  Mr.  Le- 
land  tell  me?  Why  have  they  gone  on  with  their 
plan  of  irrigation  without  making  me  an  offer  for 


258  THE  SHORT  CUT 

the  water  right  without  which  their  whole  plan  falls 
to  pieces?  " 

;t  There  is  only  one  thing  to  do,  Wayne.  You 
must  come  back  with  me.  We  must  go  straight  to 
papa  and  ask  him." 

"  Wanda,"  he  answered  gently,  "  I  have  fought 
this  out  all  night.  I  hope  that  never  in  our  lives 
will  there  come  a  time  when  you  ask  me  to  do  a 
thing  that  I  cannot  do.  Will  you  try  to  see  this 
from  my  point  of  view?  My  first  thought  was  to 
go  to  your  father  and  to  ask  him  for  an  explana 
tion,  just  as  it  is  your  first  thought.  But  what  good 
could  it  do?  In  a  few  days  now  I  shall  go  to  the 
court  house  in  El  Toyon.  If  there  was  a  mortgage, 
as  Dart  swears  and  Garth  himself  admits,  it  will  be 
on  record  there.  If  notice  of  foreclosure  were 
properly  served,  and  foreclosure  were  then  made  in 
default  of  my  appearance,  or  because  Garth  did  not 
go  or  send  a  representative,  if  the  sheriff's  certificate 
of  sale  was  made,  the  whole  transaction  will  have 
been  placed  on  record.  //  all  of  this  is  true, 
Wanda,  and  I  am  very  much  afraid  that  it  is,  then, 
girl  of  mine,  is  there  any  reason  in  the  world  why 
I  should  go  to  Martin  Leland  with  it?"  His 
voice  had  hardened,  and  though  he  did  not  know  it, 
Wanda  had  noticed  the  change  in  tone.  "  Can't 
you  see,"  he  went  on  deliberately,  "  that  after  the 
way  I  have  been  treated  I  have  the  right  to  expect 
your  father  to  come  to  me  if  there  is  any  explaining 
to  do?" 


SHANDON  TAKES  HIS  STAND     359 

"  I  can't  believe  it,"  she  said  faintly,  though  be 
lief  was  already  strong  within  her.  "  Why  should 
my  father  do  a  thing  like  that?  Do  you  know, 
Wayne,  that  you  are  accusing  him  of  a  very  ugly 
thing?" 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  his  tone  suddenly  gentle  again. 
"  I  am  sorry  for  you,  Wanda.  But  can't  you  see 
that  if  this  is  true  there  is  only  one  thing  in  the 
world  for  me  to  do?  " 

11  But,"  and  the  question  uppermost  in  her  mind 
demanded  repetition,  "  why  should  my  father  so  soil 
his  hands." 

"Aren't  there  many  reasons?  If  he  really  be 
lieves  that  I  killed  Arthur,  if  for  lack  of  evidence  or 
for  some  other  reason  he  feels  that  the  law  cannot 
touch  me,  wouldn't  he  come  to  tell  himself — " 

"  Oh,"  she  cried  impetuously,  "  that  would  be 
mean  and  cowardly!  For  him  to  tell  himself  that 
robbing  you  would  be  justifiable  because  he  was  pun 
ishing  a  man  he  deemed  guilty !  It  would  be  braver, 
more  like  a  man,  to  do  it  for  the  hot  reason  of 
hatred." 

After  the  silence  with  which  Wayne  answered 
her  it  was  Wanda  who  again  spoke. 

:(  Wayne,"  she  asked  quietly,  "  is  this  all  you  have 
to  tell  me?" 

"  No.  I  want  you  to  understand  what  I  am  going 
to  do,  what  I  must  do,  if  this  is  all  true.  It  is  what 
they  have  driven  me  to  do,  unless  I  prove  myself 
to  be  what  your  father  thinks  me,  a  weak  willed, 


26o  THE  SHORT  CUT 

worthless  do-nothing.  You  don't  want  me  to  be 
that,  Wanda  ?" 

"  No,"  she  replied  thoughtfully.  "  I  want  you  to 
be  a  man." 

"  Then,"  he  cried  sharply,  "  there  is  man's  work 
cut  out  for  me !  I  have  twenty-five  thousand  dollars 
and  more  to  raise  in  a  very  short  time.  I  have  my 
reply  to  make  to  men  who  have  used  me  as  a  fool ! 
I  have  the  water  that  the  Dry  Valley  needs.  I  can 
go  on  with  the  thing  which  they  have  tried  to  do, 
I  can  whip  them  at  their  own  game,  playing  mine 
open  with  the  cards  on  the  table?"  I  can  refuse  to 
be  the  toad  under  the  stone ;  I  can  make  my  fight  to 
have  my  rights.  Against  opposition  that  has  been 
underhanded  I  can  offer  opposition  that  is  a  man's 
answer  to  a  challenge.  It  is  they,  not  I,  who  began 
the  trouble.  Had  Martin  Leland  come  to  me  and 
asked  for  a  water  right,  I  should  have  given  it  to 
him  freely  as  you  know.  Why,  the  woman  who 
came  to  you  last  night  — " 

"  Miss  Hazleton?  "  she  said  very  quietly,  though 
the  girl's  heart  was  beating  hard  as  she  waited  for 
his  answer. 

"  Helga  Strawn,"  he  answered  bluntly. 
"  Hume's  cousin." 

Her  smile,  a  little  wistful  but  with  a  quick  flash  of 
gladness,  surprised  him.  And  he  did  not  under 
stand  when  she  rose  swiftly  and  came  to  him  and  put 
her  arms  round  his  neck. 

"  I  am  afraid  that  I  have  been  naughty,  Wayne," 


SHANDON  TAKES  HIS  STAND      261 

she  whispered.  "  No,  I'll  tell  you  some  other  time. 
Tell  me  about  her." 

He  told  her  Helga's  vague  plan,  showed  her  the 
chance  for  him  with  Ettinger,  Norfolk  and  the  strag 
glers  lined  up  with  him. 

u  I  love  you,  Wanda/'  he  said  suddenly  at  the 
end.  "  So  much  that  what  you  want  done  is  the 
thing  that  I  must  do.  But  you  must  see  very  clearly 
that  the  time  has  come  when  I  must  play  the  man's 
part  or  the  weakling's." 

"  First  you  are  going  to  be  very  sure?  Sure  that 
papa  has  done  thk?  " 

"  Yes,  dear." 

"  Then,"  she  said,  lifting  her  face  to  his,  her  eyes 
shining,  "  if  you  find  it  true  I  want  you  to  do  the 
man's  part,  Wayne.  You  knew  that  I  would,  didn't 
you,  Wayne?  " 

"  Yes,"  he  whispered.     "  God  bless  you,  yes." 

"And,  Wayne,  dear—" 

"Yes?" 

"  Do  you  think  that  Helga  Strawn  is  'very  beau 
tiful?" 

Whereupon  he  laughed  happily  at  her,  and 
despite  the  cloud  in  their  sky  which  had  grown  sud 
denly  bigger  and  blacker  so  that  the  shadow  of  it  lay 
across  their  lives,  they  were  very  gay  together. 


CHAPTER  XX  ' 

HUME   PLAYS  A  TRUMP 

BEFORE  Wanda  and  Wayne  had  finished 
making  merry  over  their  little  luncheon  in 
the  cave,  each  striving  bravely  to  look  at 
the  future  honestly  and  unafraid,  to  look  upon  the 
present  contentedly,  an  event  had  happened  that  was 
already  shaping  their  lives  in  a  way  which  they  could 
not  foresee.  Sledge  Hume  had  come  to  the  Echo 
Creek. 

During  the  past  night,  shortly  after  the  arrival 
of  Garth  Conway,  Jim  had  ridden  from  the  range 
house  to  the  nearest  village,  something  less  than  a 
dozen  miles  down  the  valley,  with  orders  to  tele 
phone  a  message  to  Hume.  The  message,  a 
mystery  in  itself  to  Jim,  had  been  clear  enough  to 
the  man  to  whom  it  was  sent  and  had  brought  him 
hastening  across  the  fifty  miles  lying  between  his 
ranch  in  the  Dry  Lands  and  the  Echo  Creek.  In 
the  darkness  he  had  come  on  as  far  as  he  could,  until 
the  snow  stopped  him.  He  had  spent  the  night  at 
a  house  twenty  miles  from  Leland's  place  and  now, 
hours  before  he  could  reasonably  have  been  ex 
pected,  he  entered  Martin's  study  unceremoniously. 

"  So  there's  hell  to  pay,"  he  said  shortly  by  way 
262 


HUME  PLAYS  A  TRUMP  263 

of  greeting.  "  The  red  headed  fool  has  discovered 
something,  has  he?" 

He  flung  off  his  coat  and  strode  to  the  fireplace. 
Garth  and  Leland  were  together,  had  been  together 
all  morning,  planning  what  was  to  be  done.  Hume 
stared  at  Leland  frowningly  and  then  slowly  trans 
ferred  his  regard  to  Conway. 

"  I  suppose  your  brains  have  been  leaking  out  of 
your  mouth  again,"  he  said  contemptuously. 

Garth,  his  agitation  of  last  night  having  left  him 
nervous  and  irritable,  retorted  hotly. 

"  Gentlemen,"  said  Leland  gravely,  "  may  I  re 
mind  you  that  this  is  hardly  a  time  for  personal 
recriminations?  We  are  not  here  to  quarrel  with 
one  another.  I  sent  you  word  immediately,  Mr. 
Hume,  not  because  I  saw  any  necessity  for  your  com 
ing  here  but  that  you  might  know  what  we  have  to 
expect  at  the  earliest  possible  moment.  Garth  and 
myself  have  been  talking  it  over — " 

"  Talking!  "  exploded  Hume  angrily.  "  Well,  I 
didn't  come  to  talk.  There's  going  to  be  something 
besides  a  puling  string  of  words  now." 

"  If  you  have  a  suggestion  — " 

"  You  bet  I  have !  I've  been  expecting  just  this 
thing  ever  since  you  began  playing  the  game  with 
Conway  there  as  a  stool  pigeon.  If  we'd  have  sent 
him  on  a  trip  to  Paris  and  paid  his  expenses  we'd 
have  saved  trouble  and  money.  Can  I  have  a  drink 
and  something  to  eat?  I'm  half  starved." 

"  Certainly.     But  your  suggestion  — " 


264  THE  SHORT  CUT 

"  Is  already  working.  I'm  going  to  make  it  so 
hot  for  Red  Shandon  that  he'll  come  to  time  the  first 
show  he  gets.  MacKelvey  is  on  the  jump  and  not 
over  an  hour  or  two  behind  me.  It's  time  for 
trumps  now,  Leland." 

Martin  jerked  his  head  up  at  MacKelvey's  name 
and  stared  at  Hume  with  keen,  hard  eyes. 

1  You're  making  a  bold  play,  Mr.  Hume." 

"  Well?  "  challenged  Hume.  "  Isn't  it  high  time 
for  it?  We  might  have  bought  the  water  from 
Shandon  before  and  have  been  better  off.  You 
wouldn't  stand  for  it;  you  had  to  gobble  everything 
for  nothing.  We  took  the  chance.  It  wasn't  a  bad 
gamble  either,  considering  Shandon  was  away  the 
first  year  and  is  a  fool  to"  boot.  But  you've  lost  on 
it.  Now  when  you  go  to  him  and  ask  for  the  water 
he's  going  to  laugh  at  you.  But  lock  him  up, 
charged  with  murder,  make  him  believe  that  we  can 
stretch  his  neck  for  him  and  he'll  hang,  or  by  God, 
he  will  come  to  time.  Now  I  »want  a  drink  and 
something  to  eat.  You  and  Conway  can  spend  the 
day  talking  if  you  like;  I've  got  a  day's  work  cut 
out  ahead  of  me." 

"  You're  going  with  MacKelvey?  " 

Hume  laughed  and  threw  back  his  coat,  showing 
the  deputy  sheriff's  star  under  it. 

"  I  had  Mac  swear  me  in  six  months  ago,"  he 
answered.  "  Yes,  I'm  going  with  him." 

Martin  Leland  rose  and  preceded  Hume  to  the 
door. 


HUME  PLAYS  A  TRUMP  265 

"  I  shall  ask  my  wife  to  see  that  you  have  some 
thing  to  eat  right  away,"  he  said  quietly.  "  First, 
Mr.  Hume,  I  want  you  to  know  that  Garth  has  not 
been  doing  any  talking,  as  you  have  suspected." 

Hume  merely  lifted  his  heavy  shoulders. 

"And,"  Leland  added,  a  little  more  sharply,  "I 
want  you  to  know  also  that  there  is  a  woman  here, 
a  Miss  Hazleton,  whom  we  don't  know  anything 
about  excepting  that  she  went  to  Shandon's  last 
night,  and  after  her  talk  with  him  he  rushed  out  to 
Garth  demanding  to  be  told  about  the  mortgage. 
Just  where  she  fits  in  I  don't  know.  She  might  be 
anything  from  a  chorus  girl  to  a  Reno  widow." 

"  Oho,"  cried  Hume,  his  brows  suddenly  drawn 
blackly.  "  He's  getting  a  woman  mixed  up  in  his 
affairs,  is  he?  That  shows  how  much  sense  he  has. 
Where  is  she  now?  " 

"  Here.     She  has  asked  to  go  out  with  us  to 


morrow." 


Hume  made  no  answer  but  shoving  his  hands  into 
his  pockets  strode  after  Leland  into  the  living  room. 
He  stopped  at  the  door,  a  little  startled  by  the  vision 
which  confronted  him  as  Helga  Strawn  turned 
quickly  from  the  window,  where  she  had  been  frown 
ing  at  the  blinding  glare  of  the  snow  without,  and 
faced  him. 

She  wore  the  clothes  in  which  she  had  gone 
through  the  storm,  but  a  hot  iron  had  taken  the 
wrinkles  out  and  they  fitted  her  superb  figure  ad 
mirably.  Hume  did  not  notice  the  clothes,  he  saw 


266  THE  SHORT  CUT 

only  the  woman.  She  inclined  her  head  just  a  little 
to  her  host,  with  no  softening  of  the  cold  features. 
Upon  Hume  she  bestowed  a  casual  glance  that  came 
and  went  indifferently. 

"  Miss  Hazleton,"  said  Martin  curtly,  "  this  is 
Mr.  Hume." 

The  eyes  of  the  two  men  were  keen  upon  her  as 
the  name  was  spoken.  As  Martin  had  said  they  did 
not  know  where  this  woman  fitted  in;  it  was  their 
business  to  find  out. 

Again  she  bowed,  very  slightly.  If  she  felt  any 
flicker  of  interest,  of  surprise,  that  Hume  was  here, 
she  did  not  betray  it. 

"  How  do  you  do,  Mr.  Hume?"  was  what  she 
said,  as  indifferently  as  though  in  reality  she  had  no 
interest  in  the  man  or  knowledge  of  him. 

Martin  left  the  room  and  went  to  the  kitchen  in 
search  of  Mrs.  Leland.  Hume  came  to  the  win 
dow  where  Helga  was  standing. 

"  So  you  are  a  friend  of  Red  Shandon's,  are 
you?"  he  said  bluntly. 

"  Am  I  ?  "  The  lift  of  her  brows  asked  him  very 
plainly  what  he  meant  by  that  and  what  business  it 
was  of  his. 

"  Yes,"  he  retorted  a  little  warmly,  perhaps  for 
the  mere  reason  that  her  very  carriage  hinted  at  a 
will  ready  to  cross  swords  with  his,  and  Sledge 
Hume  was  not  a  man  to  tolerate  opposition  in  a 
woman.  "  You  told  him  that  the  mortgage  had 
been  foreclosed." 


HUME  PLAYS  A  TRUMP  267 

"Did  I?"  coolly. 

"  And,  if  you  care  to  know,"  he  went  on  roughly, 
"  you  have  thereby  piled  up  a  lot  of  trouble  for  your 
friend  Shandon." 

There  was  .rare  impudence  in  the  laughter  with 
which  she  answered  him. 

"  I  have  a  way  of  judging  a  man  when  I  first  see 
him,"  she  said,  her  smile  now  flashing  her  amuse 
ment  at  him.  "  I  didn't  think  that  you  were  going 
to  be  as  stupid  as  the  rest." 

44  What  do  you  mean?" 

"  I  mean,"  and  she  turned  back  to  the  window, 
"  that  what  happens  to  Shandon  or  any  other  man 
in  the  world  is  absolutely  immaterial  so  far  as  I  am 
concerned.  Please  don't  think  that  I'm  a  tender 
hearted  little  thing  who  is  going  to  cry  if  you  slap 
another  man's  face." 

"  You  mean  that  you  are  not  a  friend  or  Shan 
don?  "  cynically. 

"  Your  way  of  opening  a  conversation  with  a 
woman  you  have  just  met  is  charmingly  unique !  If 
you  are  trying  to  get  something  out  of  me  you 
are  going  the  wrong  way  about  it,  aren't  you? 
You  have  already  let  out  twice  as  much  as  I 
have !  " 

"Havel?" 

*  Yes.  You  have  told  me  that  there  was  a  mort 
gage  of  which  I  knew  nothing;  that  it  has  been  con 
cealed  from  Shandon;  that  he  has  learned  about  it; 
that  it  upsets  your  kettle  of  fish  in  some  way;  that 


268  THE  SHORT  CUT 

you  are  going  to  make  things  hot  for  him  because  of 
it.  All  that  is  a  good  deal  of  information  to  give 
a  stranger  in  less  than  a  minute's  time,  don't  you 
think,  Mr.  Hume?" 

He  laughed  and  yet  his  eyes  hardened  and  nar 
rowed  upon  her. 

"  You  are  welcome  to  what  I  have  told  you,"  -he 
retorted.  "  It  will  be  common  talk  in  twenty- four 
hours." 

She  gave  no  sign  of  having  heard.  Her  indiffer 
ence  vaguely  irritated  him. 

"  Look  here,  Miss  Hazleton,"  he  said  signifi 
cantly.  "  I'll  tell  you  something  else  as  long  as  I  am 
pouring  out  my  heart  to  you,"  a  sneer  under  the 
words.  "  Before  I'm  done  with  Shandon  he  won't 
have  a  boot  for  his  foot  or  a  leg  to  walk  on.  And 
anybody  who  ties  up  with  him  is  going  to  get 
smashed  the  same  way !  " 

"  It  is  very  kind  of  you  to  warn  me  beforehand," 
she  laughed  softly.  "  The  fact  that  I  have  no  inter 
est  whatever  in  Mr.  Shandon  certainly  should  not 
lessen  my  gratitude  to  you,  should  it?  " 

"  You  want  me  to  believe  that?  " 

"  Really  there  is  only  one  thing  which  I  do  want 
you  to  believe,"  she  said  in  return.  "  Just  that  it 
would  be  very  strange  if  I  should  care  one  way  or 
the  other  what  you  think.  Isn't  it  perfectly  glor 
ious  the  way  the  sun  strikes  the  snow?  " 

Helga  Strawn's  keen  womanly  perception  had  in 
no  way  misled  her  concerning  her  relative's  nature. 


HUME  PLAYS  A  TRUMP  269 

A  compelling,  masterful  disposition  like  Sledge 
Hume's  grows  accustomed  to  having  its  way.  She 
was  coolly  treating  him  as  it  was  his  role  to  treat 
others ;  and  he  did  not  like  the  change  of  roles.  He 
realised  that  the  conversation  had  come  to  an  end. 
At  the  same  time  he  knew  that  if  he  turned  and  left 
her,  his  usual  way  when  all  had  been  said,  he  would 
be  taking  his  dismissal  like  a  schoolboy.  And  he 
knew  that  as  she  looked  out  over  the  snow  she  would 
be  smiling. 

"  I  have  heard,"  he  went  on  stubbornly,  "  of  a 
woman  going  to  see  Ettinger  and  Norfolk.  It  was 
you.  Now  you  come  to  see  Shandon.  Do  you 
think  that  I  am  fool  enough  to  believe  that  you  are 
not  interested  in  the  same  thing  I  am?  " 

"Ah!"  she  said,  turning  swiftly.  "But  I  did 
not  say  that  I  was  not  interested  in  the  irrigation  of 
Dry  Valley.  lam!" 

"  And,"  his  old  weapon,  a  sneer,  coming  back, 
"you  are  not  interested  in  Shandon?  " 

"  Not  that  much."  She  snapped  her  white  fin 
gers  and  Hume  saw  the  sparkle  of  rings.  "  Shan 
don  is  a  fool.  So  is  Ettinger.  I  am  not  interested 
in  fools."  She  paused  a  moment,  her  brilliant  eyes 
meeting  his.  "  Are  you  a  fool  like  the  rest,  Sledge 
Hume?" 

She  puzzled  him,  this  woman  who  should  have 
been  that  weak,  inefficient  thing  which  Hume's  con 
ceit  pictured  all  of  her  sex.  He  began  to  be  a  little 
more  upon  his  guard  in  talking  with  her. 


270  THE  SHORT  CUT 

"  No."  He  contented  himself  with  the  one  word, 
only  his  eyes  demanding  an  explanation. 

"  I  don't  think  much  of  your  associates,'*  she  in 
formed  him. 

"You  mean  Leland?" 

"  He  is  bad  enough.  Garth  Conway  is  worse. 
They  are  poor  sort  of  men  to  swing  a  big  deal." 

"  They  are  not  swinging  it,"  he  said  bluntly. 

"You  are?" 

"  Yes." 

Again  she  paused,  her  tapering  fingers  drumming 
idly  upon  the  glass  through  which  once  more  she  was 
looking  out  upon  the  shining  snow. 

"  I  was  coming  to  talk  with  you  anyway  in  a  day 
or  so,"  she  said  after  a  little.  "  I  have  fifty  thou 
sand  dollars  available.  Can  you  use  it?" 

In  spite  of  him  he  started.  She  spoke  of  the 
matter  so  coolly,  so  indifferently.  And  there  had 
never  been  the  time  yet  when  Sledge  Hume  could 
not  use  fifty  thousand  dollars  very  readily. 

"  Go  on,"  he  said. 

"  I  saw  the  other  side  first,"  she  returned. 
"  They  have  a  bigger  chance  than  you.  But  there 
is  not  a  man  among  them.  If  you  know  what  you 
are  doing,  if  you  know  how  to  do  it,  you  will  make 
and  they  will  break.  I  want  to  get  in  on  the  win 
ning  side.  That's  all." 

"  And  if  we  can't  make  a  place  for  you?  " 

"  Then  I'll  make  one  for  myself.     I'll  see  the 


HUME  PLAYS  A  TRUMP  271 

farmers  again.  I'll  make  them  organise  instead  of 
bickering.  I'll  swing  the  controlling  vote  myself. 
If  fifty  thousand  won't  do  it  I'll  put  the  rest  in. 
And  then  we'll  buy  you  and  your  crowd  out  or  we'll 
sell  you  water  or  you'll  go  to  pieces  so  badly  that 
the  sheriff  will  sell  you  out !  " 

Hume  laughed.  And  yet  he  recognised  swiftly 
that  here  was  a  woman  to  reckon  with,  that  a  fresh 
element  had  entered  the  game  he  was  playing. 

"  You  have  a  wonderful  amount  of  confidence," 
he  said. 

41  In  myself,"  she  retorted  meaningly. 

"  I  think,"  he  said  thoughtfully,  passing  over  her 
remark  without  answer,  "  that  I  can  make  a  place 
for  you,  if  you've  really  got  the  money." 

"  I  think  that  you  can,"  she  assured  him. 

And  so  Helga  Strawn  played  the  first  card  in  the 
game  with  her  relative,  Sledge  Hume. 

The  sheriff,  armed  with  a  warrant  for  the  arrest 
of  Wayne  Shandon,  and  accompanied  by  two  depu 
ties  arrived  at  the  Echo  Creek  a  little  before  noon. 
They  had  left  their  horses  at  the  same  ranch  house 
where  Hume  had  stayed  last  night,  coming  on  up 
the  valley  on  snowshoes.  [They  went  immediately 
to  Martin's  study,  from  there  to  the  dining  room, 
then  back  to  the  study.  Martin,  Hume  and  Garth 
Conway  remained  with  them,  their  voices  coming 
in  a  low  drone  to  the  three  women  in  the  other  part 


272  THE  SHORT  CUT 

of  the  house.  The  nervousness  and  anxiety  of  both 
Mrs.  Leland  and  Julia  did  not  escape  the  sharp  eyes 
of  Helga  Strawn. 

"  Hume  is  beginning  his  dirty  work,"  she  mused. 
"  A  trumped  up  charge  of  some  kind  to  get  Shan- 
don  out  of  the  way  for  a  while." 

"  I  got  your  message,"  MacKelvey  told  Hume 
half  angrily.  "  And  I  got  busy  because  it's  my 
sworn  duty,  not  because  I  hankered  after  the  job. 
Your  man  in  El  Toyon  swore  out  the  warrant  as 
you  said  he  would.  But  it  looks  damn'  funny  to  me 
that  if  you  fellows  believe  that  Shandon  killed  his 
brother  you  had  to  wait  until  now  to  say  so.  And 
you  can  take  my  word  for  it  I'd  have  taken  my  time 
about  getting  here  if  I  hadn't  known  that  Mr.  Le 
land  was  with  you  in  the  matter." 

A  little  after  noon,  the  sheriff  with  his  men 
left  for  the  Bar  L-M.  Garth  assured  them  that 
iWayne  could  hardly  get  away  before  the  late  after 
noon  or  the  following  morning,  for  the  reason  that 
when  he  left  the  ranch  there  had  been  a  number  of 
things  yet  to  do  before  the  place  was  closed  up  for 
the  winter.  MacKelvey  and  one  of  the  men  with 
him  went  on  webs;  Hume  and  the  other  man  on  skis. 

A  hundred  yards  from  the  house  they  came  upon 
Willie  Dart.  He  had  travelled  thus  far  on  a  pair 
of  skis  which  he  had  found  in  the  attic,  had  strug 
gled  manfully  but  hopelessly  to  manage  the  narrow 
strips  of  wood  which  pigeon  toed  and  tripped  him 
or  interfered  with  each  other  behind  him,  refusing 


HUME  PLAYS  A  TRUMP  273 

the  parallelism  to  which  Mr.  Dart  strove  wildly 
to  restrain  them.  He  had  fallen  when  they  reached 
him  and  was  standing  to  his  waist  in  the  snow,  his 
face  red,  the  perspiration  trickling  down  his  cheeks. 

"  Oho !  "  laughed  Hume  loudly.  "  So  you  were 
on  your  way  to  warn  him,  were  you?  " 

"  You  big  boob,  you!"  shrieked  Dart.  "Get 
down  and  I'll  shove  your  face  in  for  you !  " 

So  they  left  him  to  struggle  his  way  back  to  the 
house,  Hume's  laughter  booming  back  above  the 
shrill  imprecations  of  the  little  man.  There  were 
tears,  genuine  tears  in  Willie  Dart's  eyes. 


CHAPTER  XXI 

THE   SHORT  CUT 

WANDA  LELAND,  her  lithe  body  bending 
gracefully  and  easily  as  she  drove  her  light 
skis  over  the  glistening  crust  of  the  snow, 
shot  down  the  last  long  slope  in  a  sort  of  ecstasy 
inspired  by  the  exhiliration  of  silent  speed  and  the 
crisp  brightness  of  the  early  afternoon.  Stooping 
forward  a  little  she  took  the  short  leap  across  the 
three  foot  wide  gulch  at  the  base  of  the  knoll  upon 
which  the  house  stood,  and  laughed  aloud  as  she 
landed  and  with  gathered  impetus  sped  a  score  of 
feet  up  the  knoll  itself. 

She  had  left  Wayne  happy  in  the  two  things  which 
mattered:  He  loved  her  even  as  she  loved  him;  he 
was  a  strong  man  and  a  true.  There  was  still  sad 
ness  in  her  breast  but  it  was  but  a  sunspot  in  the 
great  glory  of  her  happiness.  But  now  suddenly, 
even  while  her  lips  curved  redly  to  her  gay  laughter, 
was  the  gladness  to  go  out  of  her. 

She  saw  Willie  Dart  upon  the  porch,  saw  him 
start  towards  her  in  an  eagerness  little  less  than 
frantic.  He  fairly  hurled  himself  from  the  steps 
into  the  deep  snow,  floundered  helplessly,  and  pro 
gressing  by  hard  fought  inches  came  on  to  meet  her. 

274 


THE  SHORT  CUT  275 

As  her  skis,  running  up  hill,  came  slowly  to  a  stop 
she  watched  him  with  amused  eyes.  But  when  she 
saw  his  face,  twisted  with  despair,  she  grew  sud 
denly  afraid. 

"They've  gone  to  arrest  Red!"  he  wailed. 
"  The  sheriff  and  Hume  and  two  other  guys. 
Where  is  he?" 

"  He  has  gone  back  to  the  Bar  L-M,"  she  an 
swered  swiftly.  "  What  do  you  mean?  " 

"  I  mean  them  crooks  have  gone  to  arrest  him  for 
murder,"  he  called  to  her.  "  They  left  nearly  an 
hour  ago.  It's  a  skin  game  of  the  worst  kind. 
They  want  him  tied  up  so  they  can  work  some  sneak 
ing  gag  and  rob  him  of  his  land.  Hume  wants  him 
where  he  can't  ride  a  race  in  the  spring  so  he'll  grab 
Red's  five  thousand.  The  money's  already  up. 
God  knows  what  else  they've  got  up  their  dirty 
sleeves." 

For  one  dizzy  moment  the  girl  grew  faint  with 
fear.  And  when  that  moment  passed  she  saw 
clearly  that  as  matters  stood  Wayne  Shandon  had 
a  man's  work  ahead  of  him.  Thrown  into  jail, 
charged  with  so  serious  a  crime  as  fratricide,  with 
Hume,  and  perhaps  her  own  father,  doing  every 
thing  in  the  world  that  they  could  do  to  hamper  him, 
he  would  be  carrying  a  handicap  to  break  the  back 
of  a  man's  hope. 

*  They  mustn't  do  this  thing!  "  she  cried  passion 
ately,  the  eyes  that  had  been  tender  a  moment  ago 
growing  fierce.  "  Does  my  father  know  this?  " 


276  THE  SHORT  CUT 

"  Sure,"  grunted  Dart  disgustedly.  "  He's  one 
of  the  combine." 

"  And  they  left  an  hour  ago?  " 

44  Seems  like  a  million  years.  It  must  be  awful 
close  to  an  hour.  Say,  Wanda,  I  tried,  honest  to 
God,  I  did  — " 

She  did  not  hear.  She  had  turned  away  from 
him  and  was  staring  at  the  long  billowing  sweep  of 
snow  lying  between  her  and  those  men  who  had  gone 
to  arrest  Wayne  Shandon.  She  saw  the  broken  im 
prints  of  the  Canadian  snowshoes,  the  smooth  tracks 
of  the  skis,  and  demanded  sharply: 

44  Which  men  wore  the  webs?  " 

44  Them  tennis  racket  things?  MacKelvey  and 
one  of  his  thieves." 

He  looked  at  her  wonderingly.  What  difference 
did  that  make?  But  Wanda  took  no  time  for  ex 
planations.  She  was  thinking  swiftly  that  MacKel 
vey  would  be  the  man  to  make  the  arrest,  that  the 
others  would  accommodate  their  gait  to  his,  that 
upon  a  crust  like  this  the  Canadian  shoes  could  make 
no  such  speed  as  a  pair  of  skis. 

44  Tell  mamma,  no  one  else,  where  I  have  gone," 
she  cried. 

And,  swinging  about,  she  took  the  side  of  the 
knoll  in  a  long  sweep,  shot  down  into  a  hollow,  rose 
upon  the  far  side,  crossed  the  trail  that  the  four  men 
had  made,  seemed  to  Mr.  Dart's  staring  eyes  to  be 
balancing  a  moment  upon  a  line  where  snow  and  sky 


THE  SHORT  CUT  277 

met  and  then  was  gone  from  him,  dropping  out  of 
sight  into  the  wilderness  of  snow. 

"  She's  some  game  little  kid,"  he  moaned,  shak 
ing  his  head  and  making  a  slow  retreat  back  to  the 
house.  "  But  with  them  cutthroats  an  hour  ahead 
of  her,  she  ain't  got  a  show.  Poor  old  Red.'' 

But  Wanda's  heart  was  beating  steadily  now,  her 
muscles  were  obeying  the  calm  command  of  her  will, 
and  she  was  telling  herself  resolutely  that  she  did 
have  a  chance.  MacKelvey  and  Hume  and  the 
others  would  see  no  imperative  need  for  a  wild  burst 
of  speed;  they  would  travel  swiftly  but  they  would 
not  know  that  she  was  moving  more  swiftly  behind 
them.  Up  and  down  hill  they  would  go  step  by 
step  while  she,  following  the  way  she  knew  so  well, 
the  trails  she  had  followed  winter  after  winter,  would 
find  the  long  slopes  down  which  she  would  shoot 
like  a  flash  of  light.  It  was  more  than  possible  that 
they  would  take  over  two  hours  in  making  the  trip ; 
she  must  make  it  in  less  than  an  hour. 

"  If  I  had  only  come  home  half  an  hour  sooner," 
she  cried  as  she  fought  her  oblique  way  up  a  ridge 
she  must  top,  "  I  could  have  laughed  at  them.  God 
be  with  me  and  I'll  laugh  at  them  yet !  " 

She  was  going  too  fast;  she  came  to  the  crest  of 
the  ridge  panting,  her  heart  beating  wildly,  her  body 
shaking.  She  sought  to  relax  her  muscles  as  she 
took  the  long  racing  ride  down  upon  the  far  side. 
She  went  more  slowly  as  she  climbed  the  next  ridge. 


278  THE  SHORT  CUT 

She  was  thinking  coolly  now,  she  saw  the  need  both 
of  speed  and  of  a  conservation  of  energy.  She  felt 
no  fatigue  from  the  trip  of  the  forenoon;  she  had 
rested  long  at  the  cave  with  Wayne;  and  yet  she 
knew  that  unless  she  saved  her  strength  she  would 
be  unfit  for  the  last  burst  of  speed  at  the  end. 

She  did  not  follow  the  track  the  four  men  had 
left.  She  knew  these  woods  too  well  to  lose  a 
precious  yard  now.  Where  they  had  turned  here 
and  there  to  avoid  thick  clumps  of  firs  the  girl,  look 
ing  far  ahead,  economised  strength  and  shortened 
distances. 

"  I  must  get  there  first,"  she  cried  over  and  over 
again.  "  If  these  men  will  do  the  sort  of  thing 
Wayne  says  that  they  have  done,  if  they  will  stop  at 
nothing  to  gain  their  ends,  what  hope  has  he  if  they 
arrest  him  and  charge  him  with  Arthur's  murder? 
There  will  be  evidence,  they  will  make  evidence,  and 
he  will  be  in  jail  where  he  can  not  help  himself." 

Once  she  heard  a  faint  cracking  sound  under  her 
feet  and  her  heart  stopped.  If  a  ski  had  broken 
now —  But  it  was  only  a  dead  brush,  snow  cov 
ered,  and  one  of  the  lifeless  twigs  had  snapped.  She 
became  more  careful  of  the  way,  wary  of  being 
tricked  by  the  blinding  snow  that  appeared  level 
when  there  were  mounds  and  hollows  that  might 
have  broken  a  ski  had  she  been  careless  and  un 
lucky.  The  sudden  hideous  fancy  leaped  out  upon 
her  that  the  breaking  of  a  ski  now  might  mean  the 
death  of  a  man,  the  only  man  in  the  world  for  her.  I 


THE  SHORT  CUT  279 

At  last,  from  the  crest  of  the  highest  ridge,  the 
one  from  which  each  year  she  took  her  favourite  ride 
down  to  the  river,  she  caught  sight  of  the  little  party 
that  menaced  Wayne  Shandon's  liberty.  The  men 
had  been  making  better  time  than  she  had  let  her 
self  believe  they  would;  evidently  MacKelvey 
wanted  to  get  the  thing  over  with,  to  get  back  to 
the  Echo  Creek  that  night.  Beyond  them,  straight 
ahead,  was  the  bridge. 

"  I  can't  do  it !  I  can't  do  it !  "  she  cried  aloud, 
her  voice  broken  with  hopelessness. 

Even  as  she  hesitated,  poising  upon  the  top  of  the 
rise,  one  of  the  men  far  ahead  turned  and  saw  her. 
It  was  Sledge  Hume.  She  saw  his  quick  gesture; 
she  almost  fancied  that  she  could  hear  his  laugh. 
He  would  know  why  she  followed  them.  He  would 
be  mocking  her.  Oh,  how  she  hated  the  man  then ! 

"  They  will  leave  one  of  the  deputies  at  the 
bridge,"  she  thought  in  despair.  "  He  won't  let 
me  across.  Oh,  God,  if  there  were  only  another 
crossing!  " 

There  was  another  crossing;  a  snowshoe  rabbit 
had  shown  it  to  her.  He  had  sought  to  leap  it  just 
to  save  the  little  flame  of  life  in  the  tiny  furred 
breast.  He  had  gone  to  his  death  valiantly,  but  he 
had  shown  her  the  place,  the  short  cut,  the  way  that 
was  full  of  menace  and  yet  that  was  possible. 

Her  face  whitened;  she  hesitated  just  a  fraction 
of  a  second,  balancing.  Now  the  men  were  follow 
ing  the  wide  crescent  of  the  curve  which  would  lead 


28o  THE  SHORT  CUT 

them  to  the  bridge.  There  was  another  course 
lying  straight  between  the  two  tips  of  that  crescent, 
and  a  great  gap  filled  with  the  thunder  of  raging 
water  against  crags  that  were  like  the  horrible  teeth 
of  a  monster,  broke  the  short  cut  in  two. 

Again  Hume  had  turned;  she  noted  even  across 
the  distance  the  contemptuous  carriage  of  his  big 
body  and  she  knew  that  he  was  laughing.  And 
again,  as  though  it  were  already  just  before  her,  she 
fancied  that  she  saw  the  chasm  of  the  river. 

"  It  is  Wayne's  ruin,  it  maybe  Wayne's  death,  if 
they  take  him  now!  " 

It  seemed  to  her  that  it  had  not  been  her  voice  that 
whispered  the  words.  It  seemed  that  they  had 
come  to  her  from  the  air,  that  some  one  else  had 
spoken  them.  And  as,  hesitating  no  longer,  she 
stooped  forward  and  sped  down  the  long  slope,  she 
swerved  still  further  from  the  track  the  four  men 
had  made,  heading  straight  to  the  river  above  them, 
opposite  the  Bar  L-M  ranch  house,  straight  toward 
the  only  way  that  was  left  her. 

She  had  made  up  her  mind.  She  was  resolute 
now  and  yet  she  was  frightened.  In  a  little  while 
the  roar  of  the  river  smote  her  ears  and  it  seemed 
at  once  to  call  to  her  and  jeer  at  her.  She  fancied 
that  it  was  like  Hume's  voice,  mocking  her.  She 
remembered  just  how  the  banks  fell  straight  down 
to  the  whirlpools;  she  remembered  again  the  splash 
of  the  falling  snow  when  she  had  come  so  close  to 
her  death.  The  very  feeling  that  had  gripped  her 


THE  SHORT  CUT  281 

then,  like  ice  against  the  beatings  of  her  heart, 
gripped  her  now.  She  was  as  one  in  a  nightmare, 
drawn  on,  rushing  on  to  the  peril  from  which  she 
shrank. 

She  lost  sight  of  Hume  and  the  rest  as  she  left  the 
straight,  cleared  roadway  and  the  trees  came  be 
tween  her  and  them. 

"  They're  all  the  same,"  Sledge  Hume  was  laugh 
ing  as  he  turned  and  waited  a  moment  for  Mac- 
Kelvey  to  come  up  with  him.  "  I  never  saw  a 
woman  yet  who  wasn't  willing  to  tackle  the  impos 
sible  in  a  flash  and  then  go  to  pieces  with  hysterics 
in  the  middle  of  the  job." 

On,  gathering  speed  with  the  flinging  of  each  yard 
behind  her,  her  polished  skis  singing  as  they  leaped 
downward,  hardly  seeming  to  touch  the  brittle  crust 
of  snow  underfoot,  standing  erect  that  she  might 
see  far  ahead  and  turn  in  time  for  a  mound  that 
spoke  of  a  boulder,  Wanda  was  rushing  on  toward 
the  river.  Its  shouting  voices,  like  the  voices  of 
many  giant  things  in  brutal  laughter,  swelled  and 
thundered  ever  more  distinct,  ever  more  jeering.  It 
seemed  to  her  that  there  were  ten  thousand  Sledge 
Humes  taunting  her,  sneering  at  the  blind  reckless 
ness  of  a  mere  woman.  She  knew  that  the  blood 
had  crept  out  of  her  face  and  that  she  was  afraid. 
And  she  knew  that  there  is  one  thing  in  the  world, 
God-created,  that  is  greater,  stronger  than  fear. 


282  THE  SHORT  CUT 

"  I  have  leaped  distances  greater  than  that  be 
fore,"  she  told  herself  stubbornly. 

"  With  certain  death  dragging  at  you  if  you 
missed?  "  the  rude  laughter  of  the  river  through  its 
rocky  way  taunted  her. 

Her  skis  were  running  slowly  again;  she  had  come 
to  the  level  land  once  more.  She  must  make  a  little 
turn  to  avoid  the  thick  grove  through  which  she  had 
gone  slowly  last  year  after  the  rabbit.  She  must 
turn  upstream  a  little  too.  There  were  ten  minutes 
of  driving  one  ski  after  the  other,  then  the  steep 
climb  of  another  ridge,  the  last  ridge  lying  between 
her  and  the  river.  She  climbed  it  swiftly,  stub 
bornly  and  unhesitatingly. 

"  If  Wayne  were  coming  to  me  would  he  hesi 
tate?"  she  asked  herself  angrily.  "Because  I  am 
not  a  man  am  I  a  coward?  Shall  I  fail  him  the  first 
time  in  our  lives  that  he  has  need  of  me?  Is  a 
woman  like  that  a  fit  thing  to  be  a  strong  man's 
wife?" 

At  the  top  of  this  last  climb  she  paused.  She  was 
not  afraid  now.  The  colour  had  come  back  into 
her  face,  her  blood  was  running  steadily.  She 
might  be  going  to  her  death.  Was  death  then  so 
great  a  thing?  Was  it  as  great  as  her  love? 

"  If  I  were  afraid  now,"  she  told  herself  quietly, 
"  I  should  know  that  I  do  not  love  Wayne  as  other 
women  have  loved  other  men.  Then  I  should  not 
'deserve  to  live  to  love  him  weakly." 


THE  SHORT  CUT  283 

From  here  she  could  not  see  MacKelvey,  Hume 
and  the  others.  She  knew  that  by  this  time  they 
would  have  crossed  the  bridge.  Then  she  tried  not 
to  think  of  them.  Briefly  she  studied  the  steep  slop 
ing  sweep  of  the  snow,  trying  to  mark  the  way  she 
must  go.  She  found  the  spot  the  rabbit  had  chosen, 
the  narrowest  place  with  the  far  bank  three  or  four 
feet  lower  than  the-  near  bank.  Frowningly  seeking 
the  detail  of  a  sheet  of  glaring  white  which  seemed 
without  mound  or  hollow  but  which  she  knew  was 
full  of  uneven  ridges  and  sinks,  she  made  out  at  last 
such  a  ridge  lying  parallel  to  the  river's  edge  and 
close  to  it.  A  log  had  fallen  there ;  she  remembered 
having  seen  it  in  the  summer.  With  the  little  hol 
low  this  side,  with  the  short  upward  slope  that  would 
give  her  a  natural  take-off,  she  would  make  it  help 
her. 

She  would  strike  this  low  up-sloping  mound  in  a 
moment  when  she  swept  down  upon  it  from  the  crest 
of  the  ridge  upon  which  she  now  stood;  she  would 
take  the  tiny  dip  in  a  fraction  of  a  second  too  brief 
to  have  a  name;  she  would  rise,  leaping  as  she 
rose  — • 

The  supreme  moment  came. 

She  loosened  the  band  about  her  waist,  breathing 
deeply.  She  bent  her  slender  body  this  way  and 
that,  straightening  up,  stooping,  twisting  from  side 
to  side.  She  felt  that  every  individual  muscle  must 
be  made  ready,  keyed  up  to  the  work  that  was  to  be 


284  THE  SHORT  CUT 

done  in  a  flying  moment.  She  must  be  steady,  she 
must  be  sure.  Not  a  fibre  of  her  being  must  weaken 
or  tremble  or  be  uncertain. 

"  Dear  God,"  she  whispered,  "  make  me  strong 
and  worthy  and  unafraid." 

Then  she  lifted  her  hands  a  little,  holding  them 
out  from  her  sides,  her  fingers  outstretched,  her 
arms  taking  the  place  of  the  pole  she  had  tossed 
away.  Her  skis  clung  to  the  snow.  She  slipped 
the  right  foot  back  and  forth,  making  sure  that  it 
had  gathered  none  of  the  feathery  stuff  that  lay  just 
under  the  thin  crust.  When  it  ran  smoothly  she 
tested  the  left  ski.  And  then  slowly  she  stooped 
forward,  her  hands  still  out.  She  felt  a  little  stir, 
knew  that  she  was  moving,  just  barely  moving.  She 
stooped  further  forward  now,  quickly.  The  shift 
ing  of  her  weight  had  its  instantaneous  effect.  The 
slow,  scarcely  perceptible  moving  was  changed  into 
a  smooth  glide  that  grew  in  a  yard. to  a  swiftly  accel 
erating  speed.  Then  she  straightened  up,  balancing 
with  taut  muscles,  rushing  downward. 

Now  she  was  flying  as  a  bird  flies  that  skims  the 
snow.  Only  the  little  whine  of  the  ski  song  over 
the  crust,  the  flying  particles  from  before  the  up 
turned  ends,  a  dust  of  diamonds,  told  that  the  speed 
ing  body  was  not  in  reality  defying  gravity,  scorning 
the  earth  beneath.  The  pitch  steepened  before  her, 
the  skis  rose  and  dipped  over  the  little  uneven  places, 
the  air  cut  at  her  face,  stung  her  eyes.  Half  way 
down,  when  the  skis  struck  a  little  mound  from 


THE  SHORT  CUT  285 

which  she  dared  not  try  to  swerve,  she  in  sober 
truth  flew,  not  touching  the  crust  again  for  five  or 
six  feet.  She  landed  easily,  crouching  a  little,  tens 
ing  her  already  taut  muscles,  steadying  herself, 
plunging  onward  at  a  speed  that  was  like  an  eagle's 
dip.  And  then  another  second,  another  and  she 
heard  the  whine  of  the  air  about  her  ears,  saw  the 
black  gulf  from  which  the  roar  of  the  river  boomed 
up  at  her  and  her  skis  rose  to  the  take-off  she  had 
chosen. 

As  never  before  in  all  her  life  did  the  girl's  will 
call  upon  the  muscles  of  her  body.  Her  hands  far 
out  now,  like  the  still  pinions  of  some  strange  being 
of  a  strange  white  world,  her  lithe  body  as  tense  as 
wire,  she  gathered  her  strength,  felt  her  body  rising 
as  the  skis  slipped  up  the  short  slope  of  the  mound, 
knew  that  in  one  flying  second  there  lay  both  success 
and  death.  At  the  very  instant,  when,  had  she  let 
herself  go,  she  would  be  slipping  down  to  the  water 
that  was  grinding  at  the  rocks,  she  leaped. 

Higher  and  higher  she  rose  in  the  air,  carried 
onward,  upward  by  the  impetus  of  her  wild  race 
and  by  the  slight  aid  of  her  take-off  had  given  her. 
Higher  yet  and  further  out  although  it  seemed  to 
her  still  heart  that  her  body  was  hanging  motionless, 
that  it  was  the  earth  leaping  beneath  her,  flying  back 
ward,  rushing  away,  hurling  the  chasm  of  the  river 
under  her.  She  did  not  look  down;  it  might  have 
meant  death  to  look  down.  She  kept  her  eyes 
fastened  now  upon  the  far  bank,  the  place  where  she 


286  THE  SHORT  CUT 

sought  to  land,  where  she  must  throw  herself  for 
ward  to  avoid  slipping  back. 

And  yet  she  saw  the  black  gulf  under  her.  It  was 
too  black,  too  wide,  too  full  of  shrieking  menace  for 
her  not  to  see  it  even  while  she  did  not  look  at  it. 
She  was  hanging  still  in  air,  it  was  rushing  at  her, 
there  was  an  instant  filled  with  eternity.  And  then, 
Wayne's  name  upon  her  lips,  she  had  described  the 
great  arc,  she  had  struck  six  feet  from  the  treach 
erous  margin  on  the  far  side,  her  skis  were  running 
smoothly  under  her,  at  first  swiftly,  then  slowly,  and 
a  glad  cry  of  thankfulness  broke  from  her  lips. 

She  had  not  even  fallen,  she  did  not  have  to  hurl 
herself  prone  to  clutch  at  the  snow  with  her  fingers. 
She  sped  on,  came  slowly  to  a  standstill  and  then  her 
heart  leaping,  her  blood  racing,  her  eyes  bright  and 
wet  she  was  over  the  ridge  and  speeding  forward 
again,  the  roar  of  the  river  lost  to  her  ears,  the 
form  of  a  man  bringing  a  horse  out  of  a  snow  sur 
rounded  barn  in  her  eyes. 

He  cried  out  as  he  saw  her  racing  across  the  snow 
to  him,  cried  out  in  wonder.  He  dropped  his 
horse's  rope  and  turned  to  meet  her.  She  saw  that 
he  was  still  on  his  skis,  saw  too  that  not  a  thousand 
yards  beyond  the  house  four  men  were  coming  on 
swiftly. 

"Wanda!" 

"Wayne."  She  had  come  close  enough  to  call 
now  and  lifted  her  voice  clearly.  "  MacKelvey  and 
Hume  and  two  more  men  are  there,  right  there. 


THE  SHORT  CUT  287 

They  are  going  to  arrest  you  for  Arthur's  murder. 
They  mean  to  keep  you  shut  up  in  jail  until  they  ruin 
you.  They  will  make  evidence  to  hang  you.  You 
must  go,  go  quick." 

He  swung  about  quickly,  caught  sight  of  the  four 
men  who  had  seen  Wanda  and  who  were  lessening 
the  distance  by  quick  strides.  His  face  blackened  to 
a  great  anger.  Then  he  turned  back  to  her  and  his 
face  flushed  with  a  great  happiness.  For  in  the  man 
as  in  the  woman  love  was  stronger  than  fear  or 
hatred. 

"You  golden  hearted,  wonderful  woman!"  he 
cried  softly.  He  reached  out  his  arms  as  she  swept 
by  and  gathered  her  into  them.  He  kissed  her 
softly.  And  then,  swiftly,  he  turned  away. 

"  After  a  few  days,  come  to  the  cave,"  he  said 
eagerly.  "  If  I  let  them  take  me  now  it  would  mean 
more  than  my  ruin,  more  than  my  death,  Wanda. 
They  won't  take  me.  When  a  man  is  arrested  for 
Arthur's  murder  it  is  going  to  be  the  right  man." 

And  striking  out  mightily,  steadily  he  left  her, 
driving  his  straight  way  toward  the  broken  country 
of  the  upper  end  of  the  valley. 

When  they  came  to  where  she  lay,  Hume  first, 
they  found  Wanda  Leland  very  still  and  white, 
motionless  save  for  the  little  sobs  shaking  her. 
Hume's  anger  broke  out  into  a  wordy  fury.  He 
shook  his  fist  at  her  prostrate  body  and  cursed.  But 
he  did  not  sneer.  There  was  too  deep  a  wonder  in 


288  THE  SHORT  CUT 

his  heart.  He  Knew,  they  all  knew,  what  it  meant 
to  have  done  what  she  had  done.  And  MacKelvey, 
a  hard  man  robbed  by  her  of  his  prey,  took  off  his 
hat  and  lifted  her  gently  and  said  simply,  and  in  full 
reverence : 
"By  God  I" 


CHAPTER  XXII 

THE    FUGITIVE 

'"^C  T'OU  are  no  longer  daughter  of  mine!" 
j  cried  Martin  Leland  sternly  in  the  first 
-*•  heat  of  his  anger.  "  You  have  turned 
against  your  own  blood  like  a  traitress.  You  have 
forsaken  your  father  to  ally  yourself  with  a  drunken 
brawler,  a  man  so  sunken  in  depravity  that  he  has 
murdered  his  own  brother  for  mere  money.  You 
have  shamed  yourself  and  your  mother  and  me. 
You  have  bared  your  heart  for  the  world  to  look  at 
and  laugh  at,  that  men  may  link  your  name  and  the 
name  of  a  common  fugitive  from  justice.  You 
would  be  held  up  to  less  shame  had  you  merely  un 
covered  your  body  and  gone  out  naked  for  men  to 
jeer  at!  " 

Wanda,  lying  white  and  lax  upon  the  couch  near 
the  fireplace,  suddenly  dropped  her  mother's  hand 
and  sprang  to  her  feet,  her  body  quivering  with  a 
quick  anger  that  leaped  out  to  meet  her  father's. 

"  Papa !  "  Her  head  was  thrown  up  in  defiant 
pride,  her  vibrant  voice,  her  blazing  eyes  were  as 
hard  as  his  own.  "  I  won't  listen  to  such  things, 
not  even  from  you.  They  are  untrue.  You  say 
that  Wayne  ran  away  because  he  is  guilty  and  a 
coward.  You  know  better  than  that!  He  is  not 

289 


29o  THE  SHORT  CUT 

a  fugitive  from  justice;  he  is  forced  by  the  things 
you  have  done  to  become  a  fugitive  from  injustice 
and  persecution.  Oh,  how  can  you  stand  there  and 
denounce  him  after  you  have  set  your  hand  against 
him  as  you  have  ?  Or  don't  you  think  that  I  know 
how  you  and  the  rest  have  sought  to  rob  him  and 
ruin  him!  " 

"What!"  stormed  Leland.  "  Is  the  girl 
mad?" 

"  No,  I  am  not  mad,"  she  flung  back  at  him  hotly, 
all  facts  and  considerations  swept  away  before  the 
rush  of  her  furious  indignation  except  the  one  vital 
matter  that  she  was  fighting  for  a  thing  as  dear  as 
her  lover's  life.  "  You  can  find  no  name  too  bad 
for  him,  just  because  you  hate  him!  You  have  al 
ways  hated  him  just  because  he  is  his  father's  son. 
You  and  his  own  cousin,  two  men  whom  he  has 
trusted,  have  tricked  him  and  betrayed  him.  You 
have  hidden  from  him  all  knowledge  of  the  mort 
gage  you  held  upon  the  Bar  L-M.  Even  now  you 
are  trying  to  steal  his  ranch  from  him.  Wayne  has 
never  done  a  thing  so  vile  as  that  in  all  his  life. 
Oh!  I  am  ashamed." 

Her  voice  grew  harsh  in  her  throat;  her  face  was 
no  longer  white,  two  spots  of  anger  burned  in  her 
cheeks.  She  broke  off  panting,  her  eyes  growing 
harder,  brighter  as  they  challenged  his. 

"  Martin,"  cried  Mrs.  Leland,  coming  swiftly  to 
the  girl's  side.  "  Be  careful." 

"  Careful !  "  shouted  Leland,  his  face  red  with 


THE  FUGITIVE  291 

his  fury.  "  When  one  of  my  blood  loses  her  last 
shred  of  decency,  when  she  takes  up  with  a  low, 
dissolute  unprincipled  Shandon?  The  worst  of  a 
bad  lot.  May  God  curse  him,  may  God  curse  her 
if  she  clings  to  him !  " 

*  You  have  never  spoken  to  me  like  this  before," 
cried  Wanda  passionately.  "  You  will  never  do  it 
again." 

"  Listen  to  me,"  thundered  Leland,  his  heavier 
voice  drowning  the  girl's  words.  "  If  your  father 
does  a  thing  which  your  untrained,  woman's  brain 
cannot  rightly  understand  are  you  the  one  to  judge 
and  condemn  him?  Because  a  lying  Shandon  has 
cast  his  cursed  spell  over  your  romantic  fancies  are 
you  to  leap  to  these  ridiculous  conclusions?  Am  I 
the  man  to  do  a  dishonourable  thing?  Ask  other 
men  out  in  the  world  where  my  dealings  are  an  open 
book.  Ask  your  mother.  If,  to  you,  who  have 
gone  hungering  for  lies  to  a  man  amply  competent 
to  tell  them  to  you,  it  has  seemed  that  I  have  done 
a  mean  thing  for  selfish  purposes  is  it  your  place  to 
judge  me?  Listen,  I  tell  you.  I  have  known  for 
a  year  and  a  half  that  Wayne  Shandon  murdered 
his  brother  and  robbed  the  dead  body.  I  have  seen, 
although  all  men  know  this  fact  as  well  as  I  do, 
that  he  has  been  trickster  enough  to  cover  his  bloody 
tracks ;  that  it  would  be  hard  to  convict  him  in  court. 
I  have  seen  that  it  lay  within  my  power,  that  it  has 
become  my  duty,  to  punish  him  in  another  way. 
Not  a  thing  have  I  done  that  is  not  just,  that  the  law 


292  THE  SHORT  CUT 

courts  will  not  sanction.  And  yet,  when  I  had 
wrested  from  him  the  thing  his  red  hands  took  with 
his  brother's  life,  I  should  have  punished  him  a  little 
as  he  deserves.  Is  a  man  like  him  deserving  of  any 
other  treatment?  " 

"  How  do  you  know  all  this?  "  she  demanded,  all 
that  dormant  fierceness  of  the  female  heart  flashing 
from  the  depths  to  the  surface.  "  Did  you  see  him 
kill  Arthur?" 

"  Don't  be  a  fool,"  he  retorted. 

"  Or  were  you  over  ready  to  believe  because  you 
hated  him,  and  because  the  tool  you  would  lay  your 
hand  to  would  not  only  punish  him  but  enrich  you? 
And  you  call  me  traitress !  " 

For  a  moment  Martin  Leland,  his  face  convulsed, 
his  hands  clenched,  his  great  body  towering  over 
her,  looked  as  though  he  were  going  to  strike  her 
down.  Then,  without  a  word,  he  left  the  room 
and  returned  swiftly  to  the  study  where  MacKelvey 
and  Hume  were  waiting  for  him. 

Wanda  stood  looking  after  him,  her  body  stiff 
and  erect,  her  face  lifted,  her  eyes  unchanging. 
Her  mother  laid  a  quick  hand  upon  the  girl's  arm. 
Then,  suddenly  the  tired  body  relaxed,  the  flaming 
spirit  softened,  and  Wanda,  white  and  trembling, 
dropped  sobbing  upon  the  couch. 

"  Wanda,  Wanda,"  whispered  her  mother  softly, 
kneeling  and  putting  her  hands  gently  upon  the  shak 
ing  shoulders.  "  I  am  sorry.  And  yet,  Wanda,  I 
am  proud  of  what  my  daughter  has  done  to-day." 


THE  FUGITIVE  293 

The  mother  heart  comforted.  And  even  before 
the  storm  of  sobs,  shaken  from  the  girl  by  strained 
and  jangling  nerves,  had  ceased,  Mrs.  Leland  was 
trying  to  make  excuses  for  her  husband. 

"  He  has  just  been  blinded  by  hate,"  she  said 
bravely.  "  Some  day  he  will  see  the  light." 

u  Gee,"    commented    Willie    Dart,    outside  the 

door,  resuming  his  pacing  up  and  down  upon  the 

front  porch.     "  If  Red  turns  that  girl  down  Til 
marry  her  myself!  " 

Had  Martin  Leland's  iron  nature  asked  such  a 
thing  as  sympathy  it  would  have  received  little  satis 
faction  from  the  interview  that  night  in  his  study. 
MacKelvey's  greeting  to  him  was,  "  Martin,  that 
girl  of  yours  is  a  wonder!  There's  not  a  man  in 
the  country  would  have  tackled  the  thing  she  did 
to-day." 

"  Pshaw,"  grunted  Hume,  his  sneering  manner 
having  come  back  to  him  with  his  growing  displeas 
ure.  "  It  was  simple  enough  for  all  of  its  spec 
tacular  staging." 

"Was  it?"  MacKelvey  asked  sharply.  "Til 
bet  you  five  hundred  dollars,  Mr.  Hume,  that  you're 
not  the  man  to  do  it !  " 

Hume  lifted  his  shoulders  for  answer  and  kicked 
viciously  at  the  andirons  on  the  hearth. 

"So  you  let  him  get  clean  away?"  demanded 
Martin,  flinging  himself  into  his  chair  at  the  table 


294  THE  SHORT  CUT 

and  glowering  at  MacKelvey.  "  Why  didn't  you 
follow  him  up?  " 

"  Because  I  wasn't  a  fool.  Wouldn't  I  cut  a 
pretty  picture  slipping  around  on  a  pair  of  sticks  try 
ing  to  catch  up  with  the  strongest  ski  man  in  the 
county!  He'd  double  up  on  me  every  mile.  And 
with  the  night  coming  on  I'd  stand  a  great  chance 
finding  him,  wouldn't  I?  " 

;<  What  are  you  going  to  do  about  it  then?  " 

MacKelvey  spat  thoughtfully  at  the  fire. 

"  I'm  going  to  nab  him  the  first  chance  I  get. 
And  I'm  not  in  the  habit  of  carrying  a  warrant 
around  in  my  pocket  until  I  wear  it  out,  either." 

"  You  are  going  out  after  him  in  the  morning?  " 

MacKelvey  again  attacked  the  fire  with  more 
thoughtfulness,  truer  precision  than  before. 

"  Nope.  I'm  going  back  to  El  Toyon  while  I 
can  get  out.  There's  about  ten  feet  more  snow  due 
in  the  next  two  weeks,  Martin." 

"  So,"  cried  Hume.  "  That's  the  way  you  serve 
a  warrant,  is  it?  You  are  going  to  let  the  man  get 
away  if  he  wants  to,  and  he  has  shown  us  already 
how  he  feels  about  that !  You  are  going  to  let  him 
slip  down  to  Mexico  or  work  up  to  the  Canadian 
line." 

"  Easy,  Mr.  Hume,"  said  MacKelvey  slowly. 
"  I've  been  sheriff  in  this  county  for  seventeen  years. 
Name  me  the  name  of  any  man  who's  been  wanted 
and  who  hasn't  been  brought  in.  If  I  stuck  here, 
running  around  like  a  rabbit  in  the  snow,  Shandon 


THE  FUGITIVE  295 

would  have  the  chance  to  get  out,  if  he  wanted  it. 
And  I  don't  believe  that  he  does  want  it.  But  if 
I'm  back  in  El  Toyon  to-morrow  with  the  wires  busy 
there  won't  be  a  hole  in  the  web  for  a  blue  bottle 
to  buzz  through.  He  can't  eat  snow,  you  know. 
I'll  put  a  man  up  here  to  see  he  don't  slip  back  to 
the  Bar  L-M.  And  I  don't  say  I  won't  go  myself 
or  send  Johnson  and  Crawford  out  in  the  morning 
to  try  and  pick  up  his  tracks  if  it  don't  snow  during 
the  night  and  cover  them  up." 

But  long  before  midnight  it  came  on  to  snow 
again,  so  heavily  that  they  all  knew  that  a  fresh  ski 
track  would  not  have  lasted  an  hour.  Early  the 
next  morning  Leland,  Garth  Conway,  Sledge  Hume 
and  MacKelvey  with  his  deputies  went  out  of  the 
valley  upon  skis  or  snow  shoes.  Helga  Strawn 
went  with  them,  shrugging  her  shoulders  at  Leland's 
blunt  assurance  that  it  would  be  a  good  ten  miles 
of  hard  work  before  they  could  expect  to  take  to 
the  horses  waiting  beyond  the  heavy  snow  line. 

Mr.  Dart  did  not  go  with  them.  He  had  settled 
that  fact  for  himself  very  positively  before  going  to 
bed  the  night  before. 

"  In  the  first  place,"  he  decided,  "  Red  might  need 
me  to  smuggle  him  some  grub  or  something  and  I 
got  to  be  on  hand.  In  the  second  place  I  had 
enough  trying  to  ride  two  slippery  sticks  yesterday. 
Split  myself  in  two  for  ten  miles  on  a  pair  of  devil's 
toboggans?  Thanks  awfully.  I'll  stay  here  and 
split  stovewood  for  Julia." 


296  THE  SHORT  CUT 

"Where's  Dart?"  demanded  Leland  when  the 
men  were  pushing  back  their  chairs  from  the  break 
fast  table. 

Nobody  knew.  He  had  not  been  seen  since  last 
evening.  Julia,  hastily  returning  from  quest  of 
him,  brought  back  word  that  he  was  in  bed  and  that 
she  was  afraid  that  he  was  unwell.  She  had  heard 
him  groaning. 

"The  little  fool  is  faking,"  cried  Martin,  ready 
this  morning  to  fly  into  a  rage  over  trifles.  "  Does 
he  think  I'm  going  to  have  him  sticking  around  the 
place  all  winter?  " 

He  flung  himself  from  the  table  and  went  heavily 
up  the  stairs  to  Dart's  room  in  the  attic. 

"  Come  out  of  that,"  he  said  roughly,  throwing 
the  door  open.  "  We  are  going  to  start  right  away. 
[You'd  better  get  some  breakfast  in  a  hurry  if  you 
want  any." 

"Breakfast?"  moaned  Dart  weakly.  "Good 
God,  Mart.  Don't  say  breakfast  to  me  or  I'll  die." 

"What's  the  matter?"  asked  Martin  roughly 
and  suspiciously.  "  You  weren't  sick  last  night." 

He  came  closer  to  the  huddled  figure.  Dart's 
hands  were  shaking,  his  face  was  as  white  as  a  sheet. 

"  It  came  on  sudden,"  he  said  faintly.  "I  — 
I've  had  it  before.  I  —  I  think  I'm  dying  this  time. 
Has  Mamma  Leland  got  a  Bible?  " 

Suddenly,  before  Leland's  astonished  eyes,  the 
little  man  began  a  violent  retching  and  vomiting. 
Leland  went  back  down  the  stairs,  swearing,  and 


THE  FUGITIVE  297 

sent  Julia  with  word  to  Mrs.  Leland  that  Dart  was 
really  sick. 

Dart  got  out  of  bed,  his  legs  trembling  under  him, 
and  crept  to  the  window,  peering  out  cautiously. 
Only  when  he  had  seen  the  party  leave  the  house 
upon  skis  and  webs  did  he  go  back  to  his  bed,  snatch 
a  bit  of  plug  cut  chewing  tobacco  out  from  under 
his  pillow  and  hurl  it  venemously  into  the  snow. 

"A  man  that  will  chew  that  stuff  for  fun,1'  he 
groaned  creeping  back  into  bed,  "  ain't  safe  to  have 
around.  Good  God,  I  wonder  if  I  am  dying?  I 
might  have  took  too  much!  " 

Thus  it  happened  that  almost  at  the  very  begin 
ning  of  the  hard  winter  Wayne  Shandon  was  a 
hunted  man,  forewarned  that  his  hunters  would 
spare  neither  unsleeping  vigilance  nor  expense  to 
secure  his  arrest  and  conviction.  During  the  first 
night  and  the  first  day  he  never  went  far  from  the 
Bar  L-M  range  house.  From  behind  a  screen  of 
timber  less  than  a  quarter  of  a  mile  from  his  pur 
suers  he  had  watched  them  turn  back  towards  the 
Echo  Creek.  The  darkness  was  already  dimming 
the  landscape  but  he  could  count  the  figures,  five 
of  them,  with  the  horse  Wanda  had  insisted  that 
MacKelvey  bring  out  with  them.  As  they  went 
toward  the  bridge  he  came  down  toward  them,  mov 
ing  swiftly  among  the  trees,  keeping  well  out  of 
sight. 

He  knew  he  would  be  doing  the  thing  upon  which 


298  THE  SHORT  CUT 

MacKelvey  would  not  count.  Besides  it  was  sheer 
madness  to  think  of  spending  the  night  without 
shelter  of  any  kind  and  he  did  not  dare  go  immedi 
ately  to  Wanda's  cave.  Already  he  had  come  to 
think  of  that  place,  high  above  the  treetops  and  as 
safely  hidden  as  if  it  were  below  the  earth's  surface, 
as  a  place  of  refuge.  If  he  went  there  now  they 
would  track  him  to-morrow  —  unless  it  snowed.  He 
must  wait  somewhere  until  the  snow  came  to  wipe 
out  the  track  he  would  leave  behind  him. 

He  entered  the  house  by  the  back  door,  got  his 
rifle  and  a  belt  of  cartridges,  made  into  a  com 
pact  pack  such  blankets,  tobacco,  coffee,  sugar,  salt 
and  condensed  foods  as  he  could  carry.  The  cave 
was  already  well  stocked  but  he  could  not  guess  now 
how  long  he  must  lie  hidden  there.  He  had  no  time 
to  decide  upon  the  course  ahead  of  him  beyond  the 
immediate  future.  He  knew  only  that  he  must  not 
let  them  take  him  until  he  had  done  the  work  he 
would  be  unable  to  do  from  the  inside  of  a  jail.  He 
was  preparing  carefully  for  such  needs  as  he  could 
foresee. 

He  slept  that  night  in  his  own  bed,  waking  at  each 
little  noise,  ready  to  spring  up  fully  dressed  and 
armed,  prepared  equally  for  defence  or  a  hasty  re 
treat.  Going  to  the  window  shortly  after  midnight 
he  saw  that  the  snow  was  falling  heavily.  He  made 
a  hasty  cold  meal,  then  strapped  on  his  pack,  took 
up  his  rifle  and  left  the  house.  Now  was  the  time 
to  go  to  the  cave ;  the  snow  might  cease  by  morning. 


THE  FUGITIVE  299 

In  the  darkness  he  deemed  it  wiser  to  go  down 
by  the  bridge  than  to  attempt  the  steeper  passage 
beyond  the  head  of  the  lake.  They  would  not  be 
out  in  this  sort  of  night  watching  for  him;  they 
would  not  know  where  to  expect  him.  And  even  if 
he  came  within  twenty  paces  of  a  man  his  swift, 
silent  passage  in  the  dark  would  be  unnoticed. 

To  a  man  knowing  the  broken  range  country  a 
whit  less  intimately  than  Shandon  knew  it,  the  trip 
that  night  down  to  the  bridge,  across  it,  across  the 
Leland  ranch  and  to  the  cliffs  where  the  cave  was 
would  have  been  a  sheer  impossibility.  The  storm, 
howling  and  snatching  at  him,  would  have  taken  the 
heart  out  of  a  man  less  grimly  determined  than  he 
had  grown  to  be.  The  snow,  while  it  befriended 
him,  covering  his  trail  in  the  rear,  drove  its  shifting 
wall  of  opposition  across  his  way  in  front.  The 
darkness  tricked  him  and  baffled  him  again  and 
again.  But  still,  head  down  and  dogged,  he  pushed 
on,  certain  always  of  his  general  direction,  confident 
of  being  under  the  cliffs  in  the  first  faint  glow  of  the 
new  day. 

It  was  an  endless  night,  torturous  with  cold  and 
uncertainty.  But  at  last,  before  the  day  broke,  he 
made  his  heavy  way  up  the  great  cedar,  climbing 
perilously  with  numbed  hands.  He  knew  that  if  his 
pursuers  came  here  now  they  would  see  where  he 
had  knocked  the  thick  pads  of  snow  from  the  wide 
horizontal  branches.  But  he  knew,  too,  that  before 
they  could  arrive  the  steadily  falling  snow  would 


300  THE  SHORT  CUT 

have  hidden  the  signs  he  had  left  behind  him.  And 
at  last,  wearily,  he  threw  himself  down  before  a 
crackling  fire,  and  went  to  sleep. 

For  upwards  of  two  weeks  his  life  was  like  that 
of  a  rat  in  a  cellar.  Silence,  monotony,  darkness, 
loneliness.  Already  the  snowfall  was  as  great  as 
that  of  most  winters.  He  could  guess  that  by  this 
time  the  fences  about  Wanda's  home  were  hidden 
under  a  smooth  covering  that  thickened  day  by  day, 
night  after  night.  When  he  looked  out  from  the 
screen  across  his  doorway  he  saw  that  the  smaller 
trees  were  blotted  out  and  reckoned  that  upon  the 
level  floor  of  the  valley  the  snow  lay  ten  feet  deep. 
Now  and  again,  when  he  went  out  in  the  early  dawn 
or  the  last  glimmering  light  of  dusk  for  wood  or  for 
a  break  in  the  monotony  that  was  horrible  in  itself 
to  a  man  of  his  type,  he  saw  how  the  winter  was 
piling  higher  and  higher  its  white  heaps  along  the 
cliffs  above.  He  spent  hours  on  the  cliffs,  working 
his  way  slowly  upward  along  the  seam  in  the  rocks 
which  he  discovered  led  out  above,  digging  with  his 
hands  for  dead  branches  to  replenish  his  dwindling 
stock  of  firewood.  He  must  choose  days  for  this 
when  the  snow  so  thickened  the  air  that  a  man  within 
shouting  distance  could  not  have  seen  him. 

Two  weeks,  and  Wanda  did  not  come  to  him. 
Two  weeks  of  inactivity,  of  waiting,  the  hardest  trial 
in  the  world  for  a  man  tingling  with  energy,  with  his 
work  calling  to  him  through  every  moment  of  his 
waking  hours.  He  had  planned  that  work,  going 


THE  FUGITIVE  301 

over  and  over  his  plans,  every  step.  He  knew  just 
what  he  should  do  —  when  Wanda  came. 

He  could  not  know  why  she  did  not  come. 
He  began  to  fear  that  she  had  left  the  valley. 
Then,  when  he  assured  himself  that  she  would  not 
have  gone  without  a  word  he  began  to  fear  that  she 
was  ill;  that  the  day  when  she  took  the  short  cut 
had  been  too  much  for  any  woman's  endurance. 

But  she  was  not  ill,  he  was  certain  of  that.  Dur 
ing  the  two  weeks  there  were  only  two  days  when 
the  air  cleared  enough  for  him  to  see  the  Leland 
house.  The  first  came  when  he  had  been  in  hiding 
three  days;  the  other  two  days  later.  Both  times 
[Wanda  had  come  out  upon  the  porch  where  with  the 
spy-glass  in  the  cave  he  could  see  her  plainly.  She 
had  signalled  him,  using  the  first  few  signals  of  that 
code  they  had  made  together  so  merrily.  She  lifted 
both  hands  up  to  her  face  and  he  knew  that  her  heart 
was  repeating  his  words,  "  I  love  you,  dear,  with  my 
whole  heart."  She  loitered  on  the  porch  in  appar 
ent  carelessness,  but  as  eager  as  the  man  watching 
her,  yearning  for  her,  she  had  lifted  her  hood  lightly 
from  her  head,  flashing  the  message  across  the 
miles :  "  Be  careful.  We  are  being  watched."  She 
turned  her  back  and  stood  for  a  long  time  looking 
in  at  the  open  living  room  door:  "Something  has 
happened  to  prevent  our  meeting  to-day." 

Several  times  during  the  two  clear  days  she  re 
peated  her  signals.  But  for  more  than  a  week 
afterward  he  had  no  sight  of  her.  He  did  not 


302  THE  SHORT  CUT 

know,  he  could  only  guess  vaguely  at  the  truth. 
One  of  MacKelvey's  men  had  come  back  to  the 
Echo  Creek,  unexpected  by  Wanda  and  Mrs.  Le- 
land,  and  while  he  was  apparently  concerned  only 
in  making  frequent  trips  toward  the  Bar  L— M, 
Wanda  had  the  uneasy  feeling  that  she  was  never 
long  out  of  his  sight. 

But  at  length  Wanda  risked  coming  to  him,  choos 
ing  a  time  when  the  danger  was  least.  Johnson, 
the  deputy  sheriff,  had  said  in  the  morning  that  he 
was  going  to  take  a  run  over  to  the  Bar  L-M,  to 
look  things  over.  It  was  by  no  means  the  first  time 
he  had  said  this,  and  the  girl  felt  that  he  had  no 
particular  reason  to  suspect  her  to-day.  It  was  still 
snowing,  not  too  heavily  for  one  to  venture  out, 
but  steadily  enough  to  obliterate  ski  tracks  entirely 
in  less  than  an  hour.  Johnson  left  the  house,  and 
a  little  later  Wanda  set  forth,  her  preparations 
swiftly  made.  Johnson  was  out  of  sight.  She 
drove  on  swiftly  to  a  hilltop  due  east  of  the  house 
from  which  she  would  be  able  to  see  him  before  he 
came  to  the  bridge. 

She  waited  anxiously  there  until  she  saw  him, 
pushing  steadily  onward.  One  sharp  glance  at  the 
way  she  had  come  showed  her  that  unless  Johnson 
returned  very  much  faster  than  he  had  gone  out 
there  would  be  no  sign  to  tell  him  where  she  had 
gone.  And  then,  her  eyes  suddenly  brighter  than 
they  had  been  for  many  a  day,  she  hastened  on,  still 
eastward,  not  daring  even  now  to  turn  directly 


THE  FUGITIVE  303 

toward  the  cliffs  until  she  had  passed  into  the  deeper 
forest. 

It  was  like  bringing  new  life  to  Wayne  Shandon. 
He  swept  the  girl  up  hungrily  into  his  arms,  crying 
out  softly  as  she  came  through  the  snow  blocked 
entrance  to  the  cave.  And  she,  when  he  brought  a 
candle  and  her  eyes  caught  sight  of  his  face,  bearded 
and  worn,  must  shut  her  lips  tight  and  fight  hard  to 
keep  back  the  tears. 

It  was  only  a  brief  half  hour  allowed  them,  leav 
ing  them  both  happier  and  sadder  at  the  parting. 
But  she  had  brought  the  few  little  things  she  could 
smuggle  out  to  him,  had  assured  herself  from  a  close 
examination  of  his  store  that  he  was  in  no  danger 
of  freezing  or  starving;  and  he  had  entrusted  to 
her  the  carrying  out  of  the  work  he  had  hit  upon. 

"  I  have  scribbled  a  letter  in  your  little  note  book, 
dear.  It  is  to  Brisbane,  a  lawyer  in  San  Francisco. 
He  is  a  friend  of  mine  and  I  can  trust  him.  It  tells 
him  everything,  about  the  mortgage  and  the  fore 
closure,  about  the  trouble  I  am  in.  He's  the  man 
to  advise  us  now.  There's  not  a  keener  criminal 
lawyer  in  the  State.  I'm  going  to  give  him  my 
power  of  attorney.  I'll  take  chances  on  slipping 
down  to  the  city,  somehow,  if  it's  necessary.  Or  I 
can  get  down  into  White  Rock  at  night,  meet  him 
there,  and  get  back  here  before  morning.  The  let 
ter  tells  him,  too,  that  I  am  dead  certain  that  Sledge 
Hume  is  the  man  the  law  wants;  it  explains  why, 
and  authorises  him  to  hire  a  detective  agency  to  run 


304  THE  SHORT  CUT 

Hume  down.  Dear  heart  of  mine,  you  are  too 
brave  to  be  afraid  for  me  now.  You  will  get  this 
letter  out  somehow?  You  will  get  it  to  Brisbane 
for  me?  Once  he  is  at  work  things  are  going  to 
right  themselves.  A  man  can't  kill  another  and  rob 
him  of  twenty-five  thousand  dollars  and  not  leave 
some  sort  of  a  trail  behind  him.  Then  there  is  an 
other  message.  I  have  not  written  it.  Can  you  get 
word  to  Big  Bill  to  keep  a  close  watch  on  Little 
Saxon?  I'll  ride  him  in  the  spring." 

"  And  you,  Wayne  ?  You  can't  stay  here  all  win 
ter!" 

"  I  can,  if  there  is  anything  to  be  gained  by  it. 
But  we'll  wait  until  we  hear  from  Brisbane.  He'll 
find  the  evidence  we  want,  dear.  And  until  then 
hadn't  you  rather  think  of  me  waiting  here  than 
lying  in  jail?  " 

When  she  left  him  to  take  a  devious  way  home 
the  tears  lay  glistening  upon  her  cheek  until  the 
snow,  beating  in  her  face,  washed  them  away. 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

HELGA   STRAWN   PLAYS  THE   GAME 

THE  winter  which  had  begun  unusually  early, 
battled  fiercely  for  eight  weeks  in  the  moun 
tain  fastnesses,  and  went  down  in  grumbling 
defeat  before  an  early  spring.  And,  as  the  stern 
face  of  the  Sierra  was  hidden  under  the  snow  that 
robed  the  higher  peaks  in  royal  ermine  and  drifted 
sixty  feet  in  the  deeper  canons,  so  was  the  vital  thing 
in  the  lives  of  Wayne  Shandon  and  Wanda  Leland 
covered  by  silence  and  secrecy.  Each  day  was  tense 
and  eager  to  them;  to  the  world  whose  prying  eyes 
could  not  penetrate  through  the  barricade  of  winter 
it  was  as  though  those  lives  were  stagnating. 

Wanda  delivered  Wayne's  letter  safely  and 
promptly  to  Brisbane,  the  San  Francisco  lawyer. 
She  took  her  mother  into  the  secret,  she  told  her 
mother  everything  now,  for  the  close  companionship 
of  last  winter  had  borne  its  fruit  of  warm  sympathy, 
and  the  two  women  went  out  of  the  valley,  ostensibly 
to  spend  a  few  weeks  shopping  and  visiting  in  San 
Francisco.  The  letter  never  left  the  girl's  person 
until,  in  a  private  room,  it  was  placed  in  the  hands 
of  Brisbane. 

Brisbane's  wise  old  eyes  looked  at  her  shrewdly 
from  behind  the  mask  of  his  clean  shaven  face,  the 

305 


306  THE  SHORT  CUT 

greatest  poker  face,  men  said,  that  had  ever  gone 
its  inscrutable  way  up>  and  down  the  city  of  fogs  and 
wet  winds.  He  had  asked  his  few  questions  in  an 
absent-minded  sort  of  fashion  which  disappointed 
and  distressed  the  girl.  He  evinced  not  a  whit  more 
interest  than  he  would  have  done  in  watching  a 
stranger  stamp  the  mud  off  his  feet,  or,  for  that  mat 
ter,  than  he  would  have  shown  had  the  roof  broken 
into  flames  over  his  head.  But  he  took  the  case. 

Upon  a  storm  filled  night,  as  black  as  ebony,  Bris 
bane  met  Wayne  Shandon  in  White  Rock.  A  man 
lived  there,  whom  Shandon  could  trust,  an  old  friend 
of  his  father,  and  at  his  house  the  meeting  was  held 
with  little  difficulty  or  danger.  In  less  than  two 
hours  Brisbane  had  put  himself  in  possession  of  all 
the  facts  which  Shandon  could  give  him  that  bore 
upon  the  matter  in  hand.  There  was  the  germ  of 
a  case  against  Hume  he  admitted,  but  it  would  have 
to  grow  considerably  to  be  worth  anything  to 
a  jury.  Yes,  the  crooked  work  in  the  foreclosure 
of  the  mortgage  would  help  a  little;  not  much 
though.  He  would  attend  to  the  mortgage,  taking 
Shandon's  note  for  the  amount,  and  would  see  that 
it  was  paid  off  immediately.  As  to  advising  Shan 
don  as  to  the  best  thing  to  do  now,  the  lawyer  smiled 
one  of  his  rare,  noncommittal  smiles. 

"  By  avoiding  arrest  in  the  first  place,"  he  said 
drily,  "  you  put  yourself  in  wrong  with  any  jury  in 
the  world.  But  you've  done  it  already.  I  can't 
see  now  that  it  makes  much  difference  whether  you 


HELGA  STRAWN  PLAYS  THE  GAME    307 

go  and  give  yourself  up  or  whether  you  keep  on  the 
dodge.  If  you  prefer  this  sort  of  thing  to  a  nice 
warm  jail,  why  suit  yourself  my  boy!  " 

He  would  see  further  that  the  shrewdest  detective 
in  the  City  was  fully  instructed  and  put  on  the  case 
immediately.  Finally  he  gave  Shandon  a  letter 
from  Wanda  in  which  she  promised  to  return  to  the 
valley  as  soon  as  possible,  shook  hands  as  warmly 
as  his  absent  minded  manner  would  permit  and  went 
to  bed. 

Through  the  winter  the  various  threads  of  men's 
destinies,  golden  and  black,  gay  and  sombre,  too 
fine  for  human  eye  to  see,  too  strong  for  human 
might  to  break,  were  being  woven  into  the  intricate 
pattern  of  life  and  fate.  Though  miles  lay  between 
the  many  men  whose  lives  were  unalterably  mingled, 
though  each  man  went  selfishly  or  unselfishly  about 
his  own  pursuits,  although  each  fashioned  daily  his 
life  for  the  day,  still  the  mills  of  God  were  grind 
ing,  the  looms  were  weaving,  and  grist  and  kernel, 
warp  and  woof  found  their  way  from  the  individual 
existences  into  the  scheme  of  the  whole. 

Dart  had  left  with  Mrs.  Leland  and  Wanda  and 
made  a  straight  line  to  Big  Bill  and  Little  Saxon. 
He  made  it  his  own  special  business  in  life  to  see 
that  no  knockout  stuff  was  slipped  into  the  horse's 
oats,  that  no  slippery  gent  got  the  show  to  put 
Little  Saxon  out  of  the  game.  He  even  took  the 
precaution  to  partition  off  a  tiny  room  for  himself 
in  the  hay  loft  above  Little  Saxon's  stall,  where  he 


3o8  THE  SHORT  CUT 

spent  the  nights  dozing  and  snatching  up  the  ancient 
shot  gun  down  the  muzzle  of  which  his  enthusiastic 
fingers  had  rammed  enough  buck  shot  to  explode 
the  piece  and  blow  himself  as  well  as  any  unhappy 
intruder  into  that  land  from  which  there  is  no 
return. 

Big  Bill,  acting  foreman  now,  took  upon  himself 
the  unremitting  work  of  making  the  racehorse  fit. 
Nearly  as  good  a  man  as  Shandon  with  animals,  he 
continued  through  the  winter  the  task  that  had  been 
little  more  than  begun.  The  fact  that  the  man  who 
had  first  proposed  the  races  which  were  to  be  run 
off  in  the  Spring,  was  a  fugitive,  accused  of  a  grave 
crime,  had  aroused  much  sensational  talk  and  news 
paper  babble,  but  it  had  increased  rather  than  less 
ened  interest  and  new  entries  were  being  daily  ar 
ranged.  Big  Bill  assured  those  who  cared  to  ask 
that  the  race  would  be  run,  that  Shandon  would  have 
come  in  and  been  cleared  of  any  charges  against  him 
long  before  June,  and  that  there  would  be  no  change 
in  plans.  And  though  he  sometimes  doubted  the 
statement  he  made  so  bluntly  he  let  no  single  day 
pass  without  adding  to  Little  Saxon's  education. 

MacKelvey  was  taciturn.  But  he  was  not  the 
man  to  give  up  a  quest  once  begun.  He  grew  irrit 
able  under  the  sting  of  Sledge  Hume's  sneers  and 
Martin  Leland's  regular  weekly  enquiries;  but  he 
pushed  his  work  tirelessly.  As  is  always  the  case 
when  the  law  wants  a  fugitive  there  were  many  con 
flicting  and  empty  reports,  that  would  have  aided 


HELGA  STRAWN  PLAYS  THE  GAME    309 

had  they  been  true  but  which  only  hampered  since 
they  were  not.  A  report  that  Wayne  Shandon  had 
been  seen  boarding  a  train  in  Reno  was  followed 
three  days  later  by  two  other  rumours,  one  claiming 
that  he  was  on  a  ranch  just  out  of  San  Jose,  the 
other  that  he  had  been  recognised  ten  days  ago  in 
Los  Angeles.  Each  report  with  the  vaguest  hint 
of  truth  in  it  MacKelvey  hunted  down  doggedly, 
and  the  wires  into  El  Toyon  from  both  direc 
tions  were  kept  busy.  It  was  the  opinion  of  many 
people  that  Shandon  had  long  ago  made  good 
his  escape  and  had  gone  abroad;  it  was  held  by 
many  a  mild  mannered  man  or  timid  old  maid 
that  he  was  even  now  the  head  of  a  lawless  gang 
terrorising  whatever  near  or  distant  city  or  country 
side  the  most  lurid  headlines  came  from;  not  a  few 
people  shook  their  heads  and  prophesied  that  when 
the  Spring  thaw  came  the  body  of  a  reckless,  blood 
tainted  monster  would  be  found  where  it  had  been 
hurled  in  desperation  from  a  high  cliff.  The 
sheriff's  own  personal  opinion,  known  only  to  the 
sheriff,  perhaps  came  as  close  to  the  truth  as  any 
man's. 

Of  all  the  men  and  women  who  knew  him,  per 
haps  none  evinced  less  concern  in  Wayne  Shandon's 
fate  than  Helga  Strawn.  She  had  something  else 
to  do.  Looking  ahead  far  and  carefully,  doing 
nothing  hastily,  planning  and  shaping  her  way,  with 
Sledge  Hume  and  her  lost  interest  in  the  Dry  Lands 
always  looming  large  in  the  foreground  of  her 


3io  THE  SHORT  CUT 

thoughts,  she  was  already  supplying  her  quota  of 
grist  to  the  great  invisible  mills.  She  bought,  upon 
her  own  initiative,  a  small  farm  just  on  the  edge  of 
Hume's  land,  investing  ten  thousand  dollars  in  it, 
and  came  there  to  live.  She  bought  conservatively 
at  twenty  dollars  an  acre.  If  the  project,  now  in 
volved  in  uncertainty,  were  perfected  her  land  would 
be  worth  from  two  to  five  times  what  she  had  paid 
for  it.  On  the  other  hand,  if  nothing  came  of  the 
campaign  for  irrigation,  it  was  always  worth  twenty 
dollars.  It  was  Helga  Strawn's  way  to  play  safe. 

She  saw  much  of  Sledge  Hume.  Or  rather  she 
allowed  Sledge  Hume  to  see  much  of  her.  The 
same  thing  with  a  variation,  and  that  variation 
important  in  the  woman's  shrewd  eyes.  Hume 
had  no  means  of  knowing  how  much  money  she  pos 
sessed,  but  he  did  know  that  she  had  paid  out  ten 
thousand  dollars  in  cash.  He  knew  also  that  she 
was  a  woman.  In  his  eyes,  never  clearsighted  from 
the  mote  of  conceit  and  the  dust  of  arrogant  su 
periority,  a  woman  was  a  fool.  He  needed  money, 
he  wanted  money,  her  money  as  well  as  another's. 
He  had  gone  far  already  in  the  project  that  would 
make  him  a  rich  man  if  it  succeeded;  he  was  going 
further.  If  litigation  now  were  to  raise  its  long 
wall  against  him  he  meant  to  surmount  the  wall  or 
tunnel  under  it.  He  had  gone  too  far  to  stop;  his 
money  was  invested;  he  wanted  more  money  to 
invest  with  it. 

While  he  made  the  woman  his  study  she  coolly 


HELGA  STRAWN  PLAYS  THE  GAME    3 1 1 

dissected  his  character,  not  satisfied  with  the  com 
posite,  both  patient  and  shrewd  in  her  analysis. 
While  he  sought  to  read  her,  handicapped  by  his 
prejudice,  she  spelled  the  letters  of  the  man's  soul. 

She  came  to  see,  after  the  first  few  days,  that 
Hume's  one  working  theory  of  life  was  that  of  the 
survival  of  the  fittest.  Eminently  fit  himself,  ca 
pable  physically  in  strong,  clean  body,  mentally  in 
cool,  calculating,  single  purposed  brain,  morally  in 
a  code  of  ethics  which  resolved  all  considerations  to 
his  working  theory  of  life,  he  looked  down  upon 
other  lives  than  his  own  from  the  passionless  heights 
of  a  supreme  impudence.  In  most  things  he  was 
unusually  frank,  bluntly  honest.  Wanting  no  man 
to  give  him  a  place  in  the  world  which  he  felt  thor 
oughly  competent  to  secure  for  himself,  he  curried 
favour  nowhere,  fawned  upon  no  one.  Frankly  sat 
isfied  with  himself  as  he  had  made  himself,  he  had 
no  desire,  seeing  no  need,  to  pretend  to  be  other 
than  he  was.  Egotism,  approximating  the  absolute, 
made  him  careless,  even  contemptuous,  of  the  opin 
ion  of  others.  His  mental  attitude  might  perhaps 
be  likened  to  that  of  the  colossally  mad  man  of 
Europe,  the  only  man  of  whom  he  was  ever  known 
to  speak  in  words  of  approval.  "  I  and  God  did 
this  thing!"  the  Emperor  had  said.  So  Hume 
might  have  said,  "  I  and  the  rest  of  the  world." 

The  free  stride  of  his  activities  was  not  restricted 
by  any  form  of  what  he  would  have  called  squeam- 
ishness.  The  means  were  incidental,  intrinsically 


3i2  THE  SHORT  CUT 

negligible;  he  justified  them  by  the  end  for  which 
he  strove.  That  end  was  unvarying.  From  this 
grew  the  man's  power,  such  as  it  was. 

That  end  took  him,  in  moments  which  otherwise 
would  have  been  empty,  to  Helga  Strawn.  She  had 
made  her  little  home  cosy  and  comfortable,  the 
living  room  almost  luxurious.  She  wore  rare 
gowns,  painstakingly  chosen;  she  kept  him  waiting 
when  he  called;  she  received  him  with  indifference. 
She  seemed  to  grow  as  frank  with  him  as  he  with 
her,  and  often  enough  the  frankness  was  genuine. 
She  told  him  coolly  at  the  outset  that  she  knew  he 
would  swindle  her  out  of  her  money  if  he  got  the 
chance  and  that  he  was  not  going  to  get  the  chance. 
She  informed  him  that  she  did  not  trust  him  but 
that  that  need  make  no  difference  in  their  relations ; 
if  she  became  convinced  that  the  project  were  safe 
she  would  go  into  it  as  deeply  as  any  one. 

She  treated  Sledge  Hume  very  much  as  he  treated 
the  rest  of  the  world;  and  she  noted  with  keen 
relish  that  her  treatment  irritated  him.  She  al 
ready  knew  the  man  well  enough  to  be  sure  that 
he  would  come  again  the  sooner,  and  more  fre 
quently,  to  force  her  by  the  very  dominance  of  his 
virile  personality  to  see  him  as  he  saw  himself,  in  a 
word  as  her  superior. 

As  only  a  very  clever  woman  could  have  done 
she  drew  him  out  to  talk  about  himself,  about  his 
motives.  She  listened  always  in  apparent  cool  in 
difference,  always  in  keen,  hard  interest  under  the 


HELG A  STR AWN  PLAYS  THE  GAME    313 

surface  she  chose  to  wear.  She  never  forgot  that 
she  had  sold  to  him  for  twenty-five  thousand  dollars 
property  for  which  she  would  not  now  accept  twice 
that  amount  and  which  he  would  not  relinquish  for 
such  a  sum.  She  never  forgot  that,  legally,  she  had 
no  hope  of  regaining  it.  But  there  would  be  a  way, 
when  she  came  to  know  the  man  utterly,  when  she 
came  to  feel  out  every  nerve  of  his  moral  being. 
She  tried  to  make  him  talk  freely  about  himself  by 
the  one  method  which  must  remain  infallible  as  long 
as  Sledge  Hume  was  Sledge  Hume,  by  cool  criticism 
of  him. 

One  day  as  they  idled  in  her  living  room  she  told 
him  abruptly  that  he  was  the  most  selfish  man  she 
had  ever  known.  Her  smile,  as  near  a  sneer  as  a 
smile  may  be  and  not  become  unlovely,  the  tapping 
of  her  French  slipper,  did  not  cease  during  his 
rather  lengthy  rejoinder. 

"Selfish?"  he  had  answered  roughly.  "  Of 
course  I  am.  Who  isn't?  You  mean  that  I  am  the 
only  man  you  know  who  isn't  afraid  to  say  so !  All 
creation  is  selfish;  selfishness  is  the  keynote  of 
progress,  of  evolution,  of  any  sort  of  success.  It 
begins  with  the  lowest  forms  of  life  where  each 
single  celled  unit  takes  what  it  needs  for  its  own 
good;  it  is  the  thing  which  keeps  life  in  the  four 
footed  world ;  it  is  the  highest  concern  of  the  priest 
who  while  he  pretends  to  serve  mere  man  and  a 
mythological  Saviour  never  loses  sight  of  his  own 
reward  at  the  end  of  it.  It  is  the  basic  principle 


3H  THE  SHORT  CUT 

underlying  all  religion;  take  out  of  it  the  personal, 
selfish  consideration,  *  Be  good  and  you  can  go  to 
Heaven!  be  bad  and  go  to  Hell!  '  and  your  whole 
religion  falls  to  pieces.  Take  selfishness  out  of  the 
world  and  the  world  will  stagnate  and  rot." 

"  I  have  never  heard  you  wax  so  eloquent  in  your 
own  defence !  " 

"  I  am  not  defending  myself,  I  am  explaining. 
I  am  showing  you  the  difference  between  yourself 
and  me.  I  see  things  as  they  are ;  you  look  at  them 
obliquely.  You  wouldn't  admit  it,  but  you  are  as 
selfish  as  I  am." 

"  The  difference  is  that  you  are  the  more 
honest?  " 

"  Both  with  myself  and  the  world,  yes." 
1  You  pride  yourself  on  your  honesty?  " 

"  I  don't  take  the  trouble  to  dissimulate." 

"  You  have  never  done  anything  which  you  have 
kept  hidden?" 

He  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  I  have  never  found  it  necessary  to  make  the 
world  my  father  confessor." 

"  Do  you  wish  me  to  regard  you  as  what  people 
call  an  honest  man,  Mr.  Hume  ?  Aren't  you  telling 
me  that  to  put  money  in  your  own  pocket  you  would 
do  what  people  call  a  dishonourable  act?  " 

"  You  are  the  only  woman  I  have  ever  met  who 
has  any  claim  to  brains,"  he  answered,  paying  the 
compliment  in  his  blunt,  rough  fashion.  "  Don't 
you  know  me  well  enough  to  realise  that  I  don't  ask 


HELG A  STRAWN  PLAYS  THE  GAME    315 

people  to  set  my  standards  for  me?  Don't  you 
know  a  man,  when  you  see  him,  big  enough  to  set 
his  own  standards?" 

She  came  to  see  that  the  man  was  not  without  a 
rough  hewn  sort  of  greatness,  that  in  his  way  as  he 
had  said,  he  was  a  big  man.  He  bred  in  her 
strange,  dual  emotions.  In  the  beginning  she  had 
felt  for  him  only  the  cold  hatred  of  which  the 
woman  was  thoroughly  capable;  gradually  and  be- 
grudgingly  she  began  to  feel  an  equally  cold  ad 
miration  for  the  strength  of  the  man.  She  told 
herself  that  that  admiration  was  utterly  impersonal, 
that  it  arose  from  the  fact  that  Hume  was  in 
reality  stronger  than  other  men  she  knew,  that  it 
was  possible  for  her  to  acknowledge  it  because  she 
did  have  brains,  as  he  had  said.  It  was  an  admira 
tion  which,  she  judged  coolly,  need  in  no  way  lessen 
her  hatred  for  him,  which  rather  would  intensify  it. 

Throughout  the  winter  she  strove  with  single  pur 
pose  to  slip  into  the  man's  confidence.  Having 
recognised  Hume's  peculiar  strength,  having  sought 
his  weaknesses,  knowing  that  he  was  no  man's  or 
woman's  fool,  she  did  not  make  a  fool  of  herself 
by  giving  him  an  inkling  of  her  intentions.  When 
she  was  most  interested  it  was  her  role  to  appear 
most  indifferent;  here  was  the  one  vulnerable  point 
her  searching  fingers  had  found  in  the  shell  of  his 
egoism.  Indifference  piqued  him. 

It  was  as  though  she  had  gathered  three  armies 
and  hurled  them  at  him.  From  the  centre  she  at- 


316  THE  SHORT  CUT 

tacked  with  indifference,  striving  to  draw  his  at 
tention  from  other  points.  She  massed  two  distinct 
flanking  movements  stealthily.  Upon  one  side  she 
brought  to  bear  upon  a  keen  brain  a  brain  as  keen; 
upon  the  other  she  calmly  deployed  the  charm  of  her 
regal  beauty.  The  man  had  seemed  a  machine, 
emotionless.  But  since  he  was  human,  since  blood, 
Hume  blood  though  it  was,  ran  through  his  veins,  he 
must  have  emotions  like  other  men.  They  might  be 
hidden,  they  might  be  of  stunted,  pale  growth.  In 
one  case  she  would  uncover  them,  in  another  she 
would  develop.  Already  she  admired  him  as  a  vital, 
compelling  force.  She  would  make  him  admire  a 
similar  force  in  her;  she  would  make  him  admire 
the  physical  perfection  of  her.  She  was  a  woman, 
she  was  amply  endowed  with  brain  and  instinct  and 
beauty.  And  she  was  far  too  shrewd  to  overlook 
a  single  weapon  which  lay  at  her  hand. 

The  eternal  looms  were  weaving,  the  warp  of  her 
being,  the  woof  of  his  being  were  drawn  into  the  in 
tricate  pattern  of  human  destiny.  Smiles  and  tears, 
hopes  and  fears,  emotions  of  which  a  man  is  un 
conscious,  ambitions  and  failures,  achievements  — 
all  go  into  the  invisible  fabric.  Already  Sledge 
Hume  and  Helga  Strawn  had  come  to  find  some 
thing  to  admire  in  each  other.  The  short  sight  of 
a  clever  man  and  a  clever  woman  could  not  discern 
what  lay  at  the  end.  And  the  end  was  rushing  upon 
them  with  tremendous  speed. 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

UNDER   THE   SURFACE 

EARLY  in  January  there  arrived  in  El  Toyon 
a  gentleman  with  a  scrubbing  brush  mous 
tache,  a  pleasant,  portly  personality,  a  pair 
of  twinkling  black  eyes,  a  seemingly  limitless  amount 
of  leisure,  discriminating  taste  for  liquors  and  cigars, 
a  fountain  pen  and  a  check  book.  The  name  he 
wrote  upon  the  hotel  register  was  Edward  Kinsell. 
He  disabused  the  mind  of  the  proprietor,  Charlie 
Granger,  by  assuring  him  that  he  was  not  a  drum 
mer.  In  his  genial  way  he  was  quite  ready  to  tell  all 
about  himself.  He  was  an  old  bachelor,  counting 
upon  becoming  the  husband  of  a  great  little  woman 
just  as  soon  as  the  courts  had  disposed  of  the  present 
incumbent.  He  had  been  rolling  down  the  rocky 
trail  at  a  pretty  swift  gait  in  town,  and  his  doctor 
had  warned  him  that  the  lady  in  question  would 
have  been  set  free  and  would  no  doubt  have  chosen 
and  elected  another  life  partner  before  Mr.  Kinsell 
found  his  way  to  the  church  unless  he  took  up  the 
simple  life. 

So  Mr.  Kinsell,  having  availed  himself  for  a  week 
or  two  of  Charlie  Granger's  hospitality,  found  at 
last  a  vine  twined  cottage  not  too  far  from  the  hotel 
kitchen  and  barroom,  and  leased  it  forthwith.  He 

317 


3i 8  THE  SHORT  CUT 

played  many  games  of  poker,  apparently  possessed 
of  a  rare  ability  to  play  good  hands  badly  and  poor 
hands  well  so  that  while  he  generally  lost  he  lost 
but  little ;  he  took  up  sleighing  with  great  delight, 
usually  taking  a  small  boy  along  with  him  to  drive ; 
he  amused  himself  writing  daily  letters  or  picture 
postcards  to  the  great  little  woman;  he  became  a 
friend  of  all  the  dogs  in  town;  he  bought  drinks  for 
the  village  vagabonds;  altogether  he  disported  him 
self  harmlessly  and  pleasantly  quite  as  a  portly  old 
bachelor  with  a  scrubbing  brush  moustache  should 
do  while  seeking  rejuvenation  and  awaiting  a  decree. 
He  was  always  upon  the  verge  of  entering  some 
local  project  which  he  never  entered.  He  made 
more  friends  in  the  six  months  of  his  stay — -he  left 
in  June, —  than  any  other  man  in  El  Toyon  had 
made  in  a  year. 

He  dined  with  the  preacher  and  talked  infant 
psychology  with  the  teacher;  he  bet  Charlie  Granger 
ten  dollars  on  a  dog-fight  over  which  he  waxed  red 
faced  and  enthusiastic;  he  got  himself  catalogued 
by  the  saloon  loungers  as  a  hot  sport;  he  evinced  a 
warm  interest  in  the  country  races  to  be  run  in  the 
Spring.  In  that  connection  he  learned  that  Granger 
held  stakes  amounting  to  ten  thousand  dollars  on  a 
single  race  that  would  never  be  run;  he  was  in 
formed  that  the  money  was  already  as  good  as 
Sledge  Hume's.  He  became  interested  in  Hums 
and  in  Red  Reckless;  he  even  went  to  the  length  of 
travelling  into  the  Dry  Lands  to  get  a  squint  at 


UNDER  THE  SURFACE  319 

Endymion,  and  then  sought  out  Big  Bill  and  studied 
Little  Saxon's  good  points.  Everything  in  the 
world  seemed  to  interest  Edward  Kinsell. 

The  winter  slipped  by  and  the  herds  went  back 
to  the  mountain  ranges.  The  Lelands  were  again 
at  the  Echo  Creek.  Time  and  a  natural  strong  af 
fection  had  cooled  the  heat  of  passion  in  father  and 
daughter.  Love  and  consanguinity  narrowed  the 
breach  which  lay  between  them,  although  the  rup 
ture,  if  it  ever  healed  completely,  would  leave  its 
scar.  Each  nature  came  to  make  certain  allow 
ances  for  the  other;  their  intercourse,  though  not 
intimate,  was  amicable.  Neither  made  any  refer 
ence  before  the  other  to  Wayne  Shandon.  And,  as 
naturally  as  this  condition  arose,  Wanda  and  her 
mother  drew  closer  together. 

Upon  the  Bar  L-M  Big  Bill  was  competent,  hard 
working  foreman.  He  still  hoped  .for  the  impos 
sible,  he  still  obeyed  orders  and  sought  tirelessly  to 
make  Little  Saxon  all  that  Shandon  could  have  done. 
Willie  Dart,  growing  as  time  wore  on  hollow 
eyed  from  his  nocturnal  vigils,  slept  in  a  hay  loft 
with  a  shot  gun  perilously  near  his  eager  right  hand. 

Shandon  was  yet  in  the  mountains,  his  headquar 
ters  Wanda's  cave.  It  seemed  at  times  to  his  im 
patient  desires  that  Brisbane  was  doing  nothing; 
that  just  the  evidence  he  himself  had  told  the  lawyer 
that  night  in  White  Rock  should  have  led  long 
before  now  to  the  arrest  of  Sledge  Hume.  But  he 
refused  to  brood  over  it,  telling  himself  doggedly 


320  THE  SHORT  CUT 

that  if  Brisbane  were  doing  nothing  there  was  noth 
ing  to  be  done.  He  knew  his  man.  And  already 
Shandon  had  found  an  occupation  which  was  to  keep 
him  busy  and  far  from  unhappy  day  and  night. 

News  of  the  outside  world  came  to  him  in  the  few 
meetings  with  Wanda  which  were  bright  highlights 
in  his  life.  She  dared  not  come  too  often  for  Mac- 
Kelvey  himself  or  one  of  his  deputies  was  a  frequent 
and  unheralded  guest  at  Leland's.  But  she  came 
when  she  could,  meeting  him  below  the  cliffs,  her 
camera  serving  as  her  reason  for  going  into  the  for 
ests,  bringing  him  books,  little  delicacies  surrep 
titiously  prepared  by  her  own  hands,  a  newspaper 
now  and  then  rescued  from  Julia's  wood  box,  prints 
of  the  pictures  she  had  taken.  Wanda  still  saw  Dart 
frequently,  and  from  his  gossiping  lips  brought  word 
of  what  occurred  upon  the  Bar  L-M.  Garth  Con- 
way,  she  had  not  seen.  Her  father  heard  from  him 
by  post,  saw  him  now  and  then  in  the  outside  world; 
she  did  not  know  what  Conway  was  doing  but  im 
agined  that  he  was  keeping  in  touch  with  Leland  for 
the  sake  of  the  irrigation  scheme  which  seemed  a  still 
born  failure. 

Through  Wanda  and  Dart  a  meeting  between 
Shandon  and  Big  Bill  was  arranged.  The  two  men 
met  after  dark  near  the  head  of  Laughter  Lake; 
Shandon  gave  his  detailed  orders  to  his  foreman, 
assuring  him  that  Brisbane  was  at  work  upon  the 
case  and  that  before  long  word  would  come  from 
him  for  the  fugitive  to  give  himself  up;  there  would 


UNDER  THE  SURFACE  321 

be  a  quick  preliminary  hearing  and  he  would  be 
released.  Shandon's  optimism  glowed  into  warmer 
life  with  the  warming  of  the  spring  sun.  Little 
Saxon  must  be  kept  in  condition;  arrangements  must 
be  made  for  the  open  handed  welcome  and  hospitality 
to  be  afforded  the  crowds  that  would  come  up  for 
the  races  in  June.  There  would  be  much  for  Big 
Bill  to  superintend:  choice  beeves  must  be  brought 
up  for  the  barbecue;  a  rude  platform  must  be  con 
structed  for  the  dance  which  was  to  conclude  the 
day  of  festivity.  In  every  detail  Big  Bill  took 
his  orders  gravely  and  obeyed  them  to  the  let 
ter. 

In  another  matter  Big  Bill  had  long  ago  acted, 
having  been  informed  in  the  early  winter  of  Shan- 
don's  wishes.  Ettinger  was  told  that  sooner  or 
later  the  man  whose  property  controlled  the  upper 
waters  of  the  river  flowing  from  Laughter  Lake 
would  come  back.  When  he  did  return  he  was 
going  to  do  just  the  thing  Ettinger  himself  had  sug 
gested.  Ettinger  was  to  hold  out,  and  induce  the 
others  to  hold  out  with  him  if  he  could.  And,  since 
Leland  was  stubborn,  since  the  whole  matter  was  in 
the  air  just  now,  Ettinger  saw  nothing  better  to  do 
than  accept  the  tip  which  Big  Bill  gave  him.  A 
similar  message  went  to  Helga  Strawn. 

May  came  in,  radiant  and  glowing,  and  men  from 
many  miles  away  visited  the  Bar  L— M  to  look  over 
the  course  upon  which  the  race  meet  was  to  be  held. 
MacKelvey  spent  weary  days  and  nights  driving  his 


322  THE  SHORT  CUT 

relentless  quest;  Sledge  Hume  seemed  sullenly  idle; 
Helga  Strawn  coolly  indifferent  to  the  world  about 
her;  and  still  Wayne  Shandon  received  no  encourag 
ing  word  from  Brisbane.  May  ran  through  half 
its  allotted  days  of  thaw  and  bursting  seeds;  the  day 
for  the  race  was  less  than  a  month  away,  and  still 
Shandon  clung  to  his  solitudes,  wondering,  beginning 
to  doubt. 

And  then  one  day  he  had  a  visitor. 

It  was  after  sunset.  He  had  been  out  all  day, 
upon  the  higher  table  land  where  he  had  set  rudely 
constructed  traps  for  rabbits.  He  had  returned  in 
the  early  dusk,  finding  his  way  down  the  fissure  from 
the  rocks  above  to  his  cave.  And  as  he  made  his 
fire  and  began  the  preparations  for  his  evening  meal, 
he  heard  a  very  discreet  cough  at  the  entrance  of  the 
cave. 

The  cough  was  repeated,  and  then  there  entered 
the  cavern  a  portly,  pleasant  looking  gentleman  with 
a  scrubbing  brush  moustache. 

"  Howdy-do,  Mr.  Shandon?"  he  said  genially, 
removing  his  hat  to  mop  his  moist  forehead  and 
then  coming  closer  to  extend  his  hand.  "  I  was 
passing  and  thought  Fd  drop  in." 

Shandon  who  had  been  squatting  by  the  fire  got 
to  his  feet  and  stared. 

"Well?"  he  demanded  sharply.  He  fully  ex 
pected  to  hear  other  voices  in  a  moment,  MacKel- 
vey's  voice,  perhaps  Sledge  Hume's. 

"  My  card,"  smiled  the  genial  gentleman  pleas- 


UNDER  THE  SURFACE  323 

antly.  "  One  of  my  various  cards,  rather."  He 
extended  it,  adding,  "  I  thought  I'd  run  in  and  bring 
you  a  handful  of  cigars.  You  must  be  in  sad  need 
of  them,  eh?" 

The  card  explained  that  its  owner  was  Mr.  Ed 
ward  Kinsell.  The  name  meant  nothing  to  Shan- 
don  and  he  said  so  bluntly. 

"  To  be  sure,"  acknowledged  Mr.  Kinsell.  He 
extended  the  other  hand  with  the  cigars,  took  a  stool 
by  the  fire,  crossed  his  knees  and  added  drily,  "  I've 
been  on  the  lay,  though,  for  pretty  close  to  six 
months.  Great  chap,  Brisbane,  isn't  he?  By  the 
way  here  is  a  note  from  him." 

The  note,  dated  several  months  earlier,  simply 
stated  that  Edward  Kinsell  could  be  depended  upon 
to  do  all  that  any  man  could  in  the  matter  of  gather 
ing  up  the  evidence  he  was  being  paid  by  Shandon 
to  get.  Shandon's  eyes,  suddenly  bright,  an  eager 
note  in  his  voice,  he  shot  out  his  hand  warmly,  and 
cried, 

*  You  have  found  something?  " 

"My  dear  Mr.  Shandon,"  smiled  Kinsell,  "I 
have  found  out  so  many  things  that  it's  a  wonder 
I  don't  have  a  continual  headache.  You'll  pardon 
my  not  having  called  upon  you  sooner?  I  have 
really  been  so  busy — " 

*  You  knew  where  to  find  me  all  the  time?"  in 
credulously. 

Kinsell  nodded  and  smiled  approvingly  as  Wayne 
lighted  a  cigar. 


324  THE  SHORT  CUT 

"  Of  course.  I  always  make  it  a  point  to  be  in 
a  position  to  get  into  close  touch  with  my  principal 
in  case  of  urgent  need.'* 

"Then  there  is  urgent  need  now?"  eagerly. 
4  You  have  got  the  deadwood  on  Hume?  " 

"  Not  exactly.  But  I've  got  the  old  kettle  boiling 
and  she's  due  to  bubble  over  most  any  old  time." 

"  For  God's  sake,"  cried  Shandon,  "  tell  me 
something.  I  didn't  know  that  you  were  at  work 
even,  I  don't  know  a  thing  that  has  happened,  that 
is  happening." 

"And  quite  naturally  you  are  interested?  Just 
so."  Kinsell  very  carefully  placed  the  finger  tips 
of  one  hand  against  those  of  the  other,  apparently 
giving  his  whole  attention  to  the  action.  "  Let  me 
see.  Presently,  in  a  few  weeks  at  most,  I'll  be  put 
ting  in  a  little  bill  and  you'll  want  to  know  what  I've 
been  doing  to  earn  my  money.  That's  businesslike 
and  proper.  In  most  matters  to  be  thorough,  Mr. 
Shandon,  one  must  begin  at  the  beginning.  In  my 
business  it  is  different;  I  have  to  begin  in  the  middle 
and  go  back  to  a  point  before  the  beginning.  Hav 
ing  availed  myself  of  Mr.  Brisbane's  knowledge  of 
the  subject  it  became  up  to  me  to  do  one  thing:  find 
the  man  who,  before  your  brother's  murder,  was  in 
a  position  to  be  benefitted  by  the  commission  of  the 
crime,  or  the  man  with  a  strong  emotional  reason 
for  committing  it." 

He  paused,  looking  thoughtfully  at  the  steep 
pitched  roof  his  fingers  had  constructed,  shifted  a 


UNDER  THE  SURFACE  325 

quick,  measuring  glance  at  Shandon  and  turned  his 
attention  again  to  his  fingers. 

"  There  are  three  men,"  he  resumed,  "  who  oc 
cupy  positions  demanding  investigation.  First,  you. 
Your  brother's  heir,  a  man  with  a  hot  temper,  a  man 
who  had  recently  quarrelled  with  the  murdered 
man;  you  would  benefit  financially,  you  had  the  repu 
tation  of  generally  needing  money,  you  had  the  name 
of  being  a  reckless,  headlong  sort  of  devil. 
Second,  Sledge  Hume.  A  man  as  smooth  running 
as  a  machine  ordinarily,  cool  headed,  emotionless. 
But  investigation  shows  that  he  had  knowledge  of 
the  fact  that  your  brother  was  carrying  on  his  per 
son  the  twenty-five  thousand  dollars;  research  also 
discloses  there  are  times  when  the  man's  nature 
changes,  when  he  flies  into  a  towering  rage  that 
might  well  become  violent;  and  finally,  we  have 
found  that  shortly  after  the  crime  he  paid  the  sum 
of  twenty-five  thousand  dollars  to  Helga  Strawn  for 
her  interest  in  the  Dry  Lands.  Third,  there  is 
Martin  Leland." 

"Martin  Leland!  "  cried  Shandon. 

Kinsell  nodded  thoughtfully. 

"  Martin  Leland  is  the  man  who  advanced  the 
money,"  he  said  drily.  "  He  has  shown  himself  in 
the  matter  of  the  mortgage  and  foreclosure  a  man 
to  be  reckoned  with.  You  see  all  three  men  men 
tioned  were  in  positions  to  have  previous  knowledge 
that  your  brother  was  in  possession  of  that  sum  of 
money;  all  three  were  in  positions  to  menace  his 


326  THE  SHORT  CUT 

life  for  merely  sordid  reasons;  and,  strangely 
enough,  all  three  were  men  whose  tempers  are  such 
that  in  a  moment  of  rage,  in  a  hot  quarrel,  they 
might  have  committed  such  a  crime.  Six  months 
ago,  Mr.  Shandon,  I  think  that  it  would  have  gone 
very  hard  with  you  at  a  trial.  The  concensus  of 
opinion  was  pretty  strong  against  you.  Making  a 
fugitive  of  yourself  made  matters  worse.  But  since 
then  I  think  things  have  changed.  There  are  many 
men  who,  having  learned  of  the  deal  Leland  and 
Hume  tried  to  put  over  on  you,  have  come  to  look 
upon  them  as  crooks,  and  are  willing  to  suspect 
either  of  them  of  having  killed  Arthur  Shandon." 

"  But  Martin  Leland  suspected,"  muttered  Shan 
don.  "  It  seems  — " 

"  Exactly,"  smiled  Kinsell.  "  It  seems  rather 
like  the  finger  of  God,  doesn't  it?  Now  we'll  go 
on.  I  have  learned  that  Sledge  Hume  bought 
Helga  Strawn's  interest  in  the  Dry  Lands  about  two 
weeks  after  the  murder.  At  that  time  Hume  had 
something  like  five  thousand  dollars  in  the  bank.  I 
have  had  the  record  of  the  deed  looked  up.  The 
deed  is  noncommittal  in  the  matter  in  which  I  was 
interested.  Like  so  many  documents  of  its  nature 
it  says  merely  that  in  consideration  of  the  sum  of 
ten  dollars,  the  receipt  of  which  is  herein  acknowl 
edged,  and  so  forth,  Helga  Strawn  deeded  the  prop 
erty  to  Hume.  That's  common  enough.  All 
right.  Next,  I  find  that  Hume  doesn't  take  the 
world  into  his  confidence  ordinarily  but  that  he  has 


UNDER  THE  SURFACE  327 

been  free  enough  to  tell  a  good  many  people  sneer- 
ingly  that  a  woman  is  a  fool  and  that  he  bought  from 
a  woman  for  five  thousand  dollars.  I  find  that  the 
five  thousand  dollars  in  his  bank  had  been  drawn  out, 
a  draft  for  that  amount  having  been  sent  to  Helga 
Strawn,  New  York.  That  looked  all  right,  didn't 
it?  But  then  you  told  Brisbane  that  Helga  Strawn 
told  you  that  Hume  had  paid  her  twenty-five  thou 
sand.  Eh?" 

"  Yes,"  Shandon  returned.  "  Have  you  asked 
her?" 

Kinsell  laughed  softly. 

"  I  don't  do  business  that  way.  Usually  in  this 
sort  of  a  game  if  you  want  to  catch  nice  fat  lies  fish 
with  question  marks  for  hooks.  She  is  one  of  the 
cleverest  women  I  ever  knew,  is  Helga  Strawn,  al 
most  as  clever  as  Jeanette  Compton.  Quite  as 
clever,  perhaps,  but  Jeanette  has  the  bulge  on  her 
in  that  she's  got  her  eyes  on  Helga  all  the  time  that 
Helga  has  her  eyes  on  Hume." 

"Who's  Jeanette  Compton?" 

"  She's  Helga  Strawn's  new  maid.  The  old  one 
quit;  bribed  her  myself.  You'll  find  the  item  in  the 
bill  later  on.  Also  Jeanette  Compton  is  the  finest 
little  girl  on  our  staff." 

"And  you're  watching  Helga  Strawn  too?" 

"With  both  of  Jeanette's  bright  little  eyes,  all 
the  time.  To  go  on :  we've  found  through  our  men 
in  New  York  that  fifteen  days  after  the  death  of 
your  brother,  Helga  Strawn  placed  on  deposit  in 


328  THE  SHORT  CUT 

her  bank  in  New  York  two  drafts.  One  for  five 
thousand  dollars,  one  for  twenty  thousand.  We 
have  found  that  after  Sledge  Hume  had  drawn  his 
five  thousand  here  he  was  out  of  the  country  for 
two  days.  We  have  questioned  every  bank,  Wells 
Fargo  office  and  post  office  within  a  day's  range  of 
El  Toyon.  Last  week  I  got  what  I  wanted  from 
a  bank  in  Reno.  A  man,  evidently  a  mining  man, 
claiming  to  be  in  town  from  a  strike  in  Tonopah, 
deposited  twenty-five  thousand  dollars  at  the  Mer 
chants'  and  Citizens'  Bank.  It  was  in  cash.  The 
depositor  gave  his  name  as  —  what  do  you  guess?  " 

Shandon  looked  at  him  blankly.  Kinsell  smiled 
and  said  abruptly, 

"  He  gave  his  name  as  Wayne  Shandon.  How 
does  that  strike  you?  It  all  happened  while  you 
were  going  East  with  your  brother's  body ;  I  believe 
that  it  occurred  while  your  train  was  being  held  up 
a  few  minutes  in  Reno." 

Shandon's  bewilderment  seemed  to  please  Kin- 
sell.  He  chuckled  softly,  and  then,  his  face  grow 
ing  thoughtful  again,  he  went  on. 

"  You'll  remember  that  the  train  is  scheduled  to 
stop  for  fifteen  minutes  in  Reno?  Well,  the  man 
made  his  deposit,  and  ten  minutes  later  he  came 
back,  said  that  his  plans  had  changed,  that  he  was 
going  to  take  the  train  with  a  friend  he  had  seen  on 
board,  and  asked  to  have  his  money  back.  It  was 
given  to  him,  at  his  request,  in  twenty-five  bank 
notes  of  the  thousand  dollar  denomination.  He 


UNDER  THE  SURFACE  329 

signed  for  them,  writing  your  name,  excusing  an 
almost  illegible  signature  by  the  need  of  haste  and 
by  a  finger  tied  up  as  though  it  were  badly  hurt. 
So  much  for  what  the  cashier  of  the  Merchants'  and 
Citizens'  Bank  of  Reno  knows  about  it." 

"It  was  Hume?" 

"  From  evidence  so  far  given  it  might  have  been 
Hume  or  you!  All  right.  The  man  with  the  big 
roll  of  bills  went  out  with  the  train.  He  might 
have  gone  on  to  New  York;  he  might  have  dropped 
off  at  Sparks  and  taken  the  next  train  back  in  half 
an  hour.  He  might  have  got  back  to  Sacramento 
the  next  morning.  We  find  the  rather  interesting 
fact  that  in  Sacramento  a  man,  giving  his  name  as 
Arnold  Wentworth  paid  to  Wells  Fargo  and  Com 
pany  the  sum  of  twenty  thousand  dollars  in  bills  of 
a  thousand  dollars  each  for  an  order  payable  to 
Helga  Strawn  in  New  York.  Now  do  you  see 
where  Helga  Strawn  comes  in?" 

Shandon,  merely  puzzled,  shook  his  head  at  the 
bright  eyes  suddenly  turned  upon  him. 

u  Assuming,"  went  on  Kinsell,  "  that  it  was  Hume 
and  not  yourself  who  made  that  deposit  at  the  Reno 
bank,  don't  you  see  that  as  things  stand  he  has  piled 
up  a  pretty  piece  of  evidence  against  you?  You 
might  have  done  just  that  thing,  deposited  the 
money  while  the  train  waited,  became  alarmed  at 
something,  and  gone  back  for  it.  I  wonder  if  a 
cashier,  after  two  years'  time,  would  remember  the 
features  of  a  stranger  so  that  he  could  say  whether 


330  THE  SHORT  CUT 

it  was  you  or  Hume?  All  right.  Next,  there's 
Helga  Strawn.  If  she'd  talk,  if  she'd  tell  us  that 
she  had  a  draft  of  five  thousand  and  a  Wells  Fargo 
order  for  twenty  thousand,  that  Hume  had  sent  one 
and  had  explained  that  a  friend  would  send  the 
other,  we'd  have  Mr.  Hume  in  a  certain  place  that 
men  don't  like  to  think  of." 

"  Make  her  tell!  "  cried  Shandon. 

Kinsell  arched  his  brows. 

"She's  out  here  for  blackmail,  isn't  she?  Let 
her  understand  what  conditions  are,  and  what's  a 
clever  woman's  clever  play?  She'd  go  to  Hume 
and  say,  '  Look  here,  Mr.  Hume.  I  can  crook  my 
little  finger  and  swing  you  off  into  space  at  the  end 
of  a  rope.  Or  I  can  keep  still  and  you  can  stand 
pat.'  I  fancy  she'd  do  that.  And  she'd  get  her 
Dry  Lands  back." 

"  She  can't  be  as  bad  as  that!  " 

"Can't  she?  Wait  until  you  have  a  talk  with 
Jeanette  Compton." 

"It  all  depends  upon  Helga  Strawn,  then? 
There  is  a  deadlock  until  you  can  get  her  to  talk?  " 

"  By  no  means.  I'm  just  making  a  sort  of  un 
official  report,  you  understand.  I  wanted  you  to 
know  that  while  some  people  suspect  you  and  some 
suspect  Leland  we  are  going  ahead  and  getting  the 
cards  into  our  own  hands.  And  I  wanted  to  ask 
you  what  you  thought  of  that  mining  proposition  on 
the  old  Mclntosh  property?  It's  adjacent  to  yours, 
isn't  it?  Just  the  other  side  of  Laughter  Lake? 


UNDER  THE  SURFACE  331 

"  The  Mclntosh  property,  yes.  The  ridge  ris 
ing  on  the  other  side  of  the  lake  is  my  boundary  line. 
I  hadn't  heard  of  any  mining  being  done  there." 

"No?  Well,  it  seems  a  mining  concern  has 
found  something.  At  any  rate  men  are  at  work,  a 
tunnel  has  been  driven  into  the  base  of  the  ridge, 
and  —  I  wonder  what  would  happen  if  a  charge  of 
dynamite  went  off  in  due  time  and  blew  a  hole  right 
through,  into  the  lake?  " 

"  Good  heaven !  "  cried  Shandon  angrily.  "  You 
mean  that  Hume  and  Leland  are  actually  trying  to 
steal  my  water?  " 

"  I  don't  think  Leland  is  in  on  this,'*  replied  Kin- 
sell  quietly.  "  He  doesn't  seem  to  me  to  be  quite 
the  crook  Hume  is." 

"  But,"  muttered  Shandon,  "  if  they  once  tear  the 
side  of  that  mountain  out — " 

"  The  milk  will  be  spilt  so  badly  that  it  cannot  be 
put  back  into  the  pan?  And  the  mining  company, 
a  Chicago  firm,  I  believe,  at  any  rate  a  crowd  of  men 
hired  by  a  Chicago  man,  will  claim  that  they  were 
on  their  territory  all  of  the  time;  that  not  one  of 
their  men,  but  some  man  hired  by  you,  put  in  the 
charges  that  did  the  damage.  It's  a  bold  play,  but 
then  when  it's  make  or  break  with  a  man  he  hasn't 
much  picking  and  choosing  to  do." 

"  It  won't  take  me  long  to  get  there,"  said 
Shandon  grimly.  "  And  I'm  getting  tired  of  this 
thing." 

"  But,  surely,"  smiled  Kinsell,  "  you  don't  object 


332  THE  SHORT  CUT 

to  having  Hume  pay  for  a  part  of  the  work  you'll 
have  to  do  soon  or  late,  do  you?  Let  him  go  ahead. 
Just  before  they  get  ready  to  do  the  real  damage, 
we'll  slap  a  little  injunction  on  them." 

"  But  how  will  we  know?  " 

"  That's  all  right.  One  of  their  foremen  is  draw 
ing  wages  from  you  right  now.  You'll  find  a  lot 
of  interesting  things  in  the  expense  account  I  put  in, 
Mr.  Shandon." 


CHAPTER  XXV 

RED   RECKLESS   ON   LITTLE    SAXON 

TELL  you,  Hume,  I  don't  like  it.  It's  a 
piece  of  damned  highway  robbery  and  I'm  rot- 
ten  sorry  I  ever  got  mixed  up  in  it." 

Charlie  Granger,  stake  holder  of  ten  thousand 
dollars,  cut  viciously  at  the  June  grass  with  his 
riding  quirt  and  snapped  his  words  out  bluntly  as 
he  came  striding  up  to  Hume.  The  latter  stood, 
booted  and  spurred,  among  a  group  of  men  who  had 
travelled  across  ten  miles  of  broken  country  to  this, 
the  stipulated  starting  place  of  the  race  in  which 
Hume  and  Shandon  had  months  ago  been  the  sole 
entries.  Hume  carelessly  good  natured,  indifferent 
as  usual,  openly  gratified  over  a  bit  of  sharp  work, 
merely  laughed. 

"  You  might  as  well  hand  over  the  money  now, 
Charlie,"  he  retorted  without  turning,  his  steely 
eyes  brightening  as  they  rested  upon  his  mount,  En- 
dymion,  who  was  fretting  at  the  restraint  imposed 
upon  him  by  the  man  at  his  head.  "  The  agreement 
took  care  of  just  such  a  matter  as  this;  if  only  one 
man  rides  he  gets  the  money." 

Among  the  knot  of  men  upon  the  little,  pine 
fringed  knoll,  were  Big  Bill,  Dart,  MacKelvey  and 
half  a  dozen  of  the  curious  from  El  Toyon  and  the 

333 


334  THE  SHORT  CUT 

mountain  ranches.  Hume's  retort  was  taken  in 
silence.  But  there  was  not  a  man  who  smiled  or 
who  did  not  think  as  Granger  had  spoken.  Long 
ago,  when  it  had  first  gone  abroad  that  Wayne  Shan- 
don  was  promoting  these  races,  the  one  essential 
thing  he  had  planned  had  been  thoroughly  under 
stood  to  be  fair  play,  square  dealing,  straight  racing. 
These  were  fair  minded  men,  and  although  there 
was  more  than  one  among  them  who  believed  the 
fugitive  guilty  of  the  crime  imputed  to  him,  there 
was  none  who  did  not  see  the  rank  injustice  of  what 
was  going  to  happen.  The  feature  race  of  the  day 
would  be  stolen.  And  they  knew  at  whose  instiga 
tion  it  was  that  Wayne  Shandon  was  not  here  to-day. 

It  was  early  afternoon  and  already  a  number  of 
the  events  had  been  run  off  before  a  clamorous,  en 
thusiastic  crowd  of  five  hundred  men  and  women. 
The  Bar  L-M  at  the  surly  orders  of  Big  Bill  had 
been  turned  into  a  place  breathing  welcome  and 
revelry.  Tents  had  been  pitched  under  the  big 
pines,  making  a  white  city  gay  with  bunting  and  flags 
that  would  accommodate  many  visitors  during  the 
night;  tables  that  had  been  constructed  out  in  the 
open  staggered  under  the  load  of  provisions  the 
wagons  had  brought  from  the  nearest  town;  a  plat 
form  for  dancing  later  was  already  the  playground 
of  laughing  children  and  frisking  dogs. 

The  shorter  races  had  taken  place  upon  the  flats 
below  the  range  house,  down  toward  the  bridge. 
Under  the  glowing  June  sun,  through  the  crisp  air, 


RED  RECKLESS  ON  LITTLE  SAXON     335 

with  blue  sky  above  and  green  grass  underfoot,  the 
contesting  horses,  each  ridden  by  its  owner,  had  shot 
by  the  brief  lived  village  of  tents,  thundered  past 
the  platform  where  the  judges  sat,  cheered  and 
shrieked  at  by  men  and  women.  There  had  been 
races  of  half  a  mile,  of  a  mile,  of  two  miles.  And 
now,  as  the  hour  appointed  drew  close,  people  began 
to  forget  that  they  had  come  to  a  race  course,  and 
to  remember  that  their  entertainment,  open  handedly 
given,  came  from  a  man  who  was  a  fugitive  from 
justice  and  who  was  going  to  be  robbed  under  their 
eyes  of  five  thousand  dollars.  That  strange  thing, 
public  sentiment,  swerved  abruptly.  There  were 
many  men  there  that  day  who  shook  their  heads  and 
spoke  in  low  voices,  mentioning  Sledge  Hume's 


name. 

u 


If  Shandon  could  be  tried  by  a  jury  picked  from 
this  crowd,"  meditated  Edward  Kinsell,  "  he'd  go 
scot  free  in  ten  minutes !  " 

What  this  small  group  of  men  had  to  do  upon  the 
knoll  ten  miles  from  the  Bar  L-M  was  done  per 
functorily  and  in  gloom.  Little  by  little,  man  by 
man,  they  drew  away  from  Hume,  leaving  him 
standing  alone.  They  looked  at  his  horse,  by  long 
odds  the  finest  animal  they  had  seen  this  day,  and 
from  Endymion  they  looked  to  his  master.  Now 
and  then  a  quick  glance  went  to  Big  Bill.  He  said 
no  word.  His  face  was  black  with  a  wrath  that 
seemed  to  choke  him. 

The  starter,  Dick  Venable  of  White  Rock,  looked 


336  THE  SHORT  CUT 

at  his  watch  and  this  time  did  not  return  it  to  his 
pocket. 

"  It's  two  minutes  of  one,"  he  said,  his  voice 
snapping  out  hard  and  curt.  "  This  race  is  sched 
uled  to  start  at  one  o'clock.  All  ready,  Mr. 
Hume?" 

"  All  ready,"  laughed  Hume.  He  stepped  to 
Endymion's  head,  jerked  off  the  halter  and  swung 
up  into  the  saddle. 

"All  ready,  Shandon?" 

Again  Hume  laughed.  Dick  Venable  waited  a 
moment  and  snapped  his  watch  shut. 

"  My  job's  to  start  this  race  if  there's  one  man 
here  to  run  it,"  he  said.  "  Shandon  isn't  here.  It 
isn't  my  job  to  express  any  opinions.  The  first 
horse,  ridden  by  either  Sledge  Hume  or  Wayne 
Shandon,  to  cross  that  line  as  a  start  and  to  break 
the  tape  by  the  platform  at  the  Bar  L-M  wins  the 
money.  When  I  fire  a  gun  you're  off,  Hume. 
Ready!" 

The  men  began  to  turn  away.  Hume  sat  erect 
on  his  horse,  coldly  indifferent  to  the  opinion  these 
men  held  of  him.  He  moved  so  that  he  held  Endy- 
mion's  restless  head  over  the  line  marked  by  Ven- 
able's  boot. 

"  All  right,  Charlie?  "  Venable  asked  of  Granger. 

"  All  right,"  grunted  Granger.  "  And  wrong  as 
hell.  Get  it  over  with." 

Venable  raised  his  arm,  his  revolver  high  above 
his  head.  The  bystanders  swung  up  to  their  horses' 


RED  RECKLESS  ON  LITTLE  SAXON     337 

backs.  Two  miles  away  another  little  group  of 
men  with  field  glasses  were  upon  a  ridge  from 
which  they  could  see  the  start,  from  which  they  in 
turn  could  signal  the  word  to  the  crowd  at  the  Bar 
L-M. 

"  Go !  "  said  Venable  listlessly. 

There  was  a  little  puff  of  white  smoke,  the  crack 
of  a  revolver,  and  Hume,  laughing  again,  struck  in 
his  spurs  and  rode  swiftly  down  the  long  slope. 
The  men  upon  the  ridge  two  miles  off,  as  listless  as 
Venable  had  been,  ran  up  a  big  white  sheet  to  flutter 
from  a  dead  pine.  This  was  the  signal  that  the  race 
was  on,  and  that  just  one  man  was  riding. 

Suddenly  Willie  Dart  was  galvanized  into  excited 
action.  He  ran  to  Dick  Venable,  grasped  him  by 
the  arm  with  both  shaking  hands,  thrusting  up  a  red 
face,  and  whispered  eagerly.  Venable  started, 
stared  at  him  and  demanded  sharply: 

"What's  that!" 

But  Dart  had  fled  wildly  to  Jimmie  Denbigh,  the 
second  starter  and  had  whispered  the  same  words  to 
him.  Denbigh  stared  as  Venable  had  done  and  then 
with  swift,  long  strides  returned  from  his  horse  to 
Venable's  side,  close  to  the  starting  line. 

Big  Bill  had  mounted  and  was  riding  away,  his 
eyes  on  the  ground,  refusing  to  follow  the  figure 
of  a  man  he  had  come  to  hate  most  thoroughly. 
MacKelvey  had  gone  to  his  horse  and  was  jerking 
loose  its  tie  rope.  Dart  was  now  close  to  Mac- 
Kelvey's  side. 


338  THE  SHORT  CUT 

Venable  and  Denbigh,  conversing  swiftly  in  under 
tones,  looked  blankly  at  each  other,  then  at  Dart's 
noncommittal  back. 

"  The  biggest  little  liar,"  began  Venable  dis 
gustedly  — 

Hume  was  already  a  quarter  of  a  mile  on  his  way, 
riding  on  at  a  rocking  gallop,  a  little  eager,  as  was 
his  way,  to  have  the  money  waiting  for  him  in  his 
possession.  But  suddenly  he  turned  abruptly  in  his 
saddle.  There  had  come  to  him  a  great  shout,  the 
clamour  of  men's  voices. 

From  the  fringe  of  trees  just  back  of  the  knoll, 
not  a  hundred  yards  from  where  MacKelvey  and 
Dart  stood,  a  great  red  bay  horse  shot  from  the 
thick  shadows  into  the  bright  sunlight,  floating  mane 
and  tail  spun  silk  that  flashed  out  like  shimmering 
gold.  And  the  same  sunlight  splashed  like  fire  on 
the  red,  red  hair  of  the  man  sitting  straight  in  the 
saddle  come  at  this  late  hour  to  ride  his  race  at  his 
own  meet. 

"Good  God,  it's  Red  Reckless!"  boomed  a 
startled  voice. 

Little  Saxon  cleared  the  fallen  log  in  his  way  and 
as  men  swung  hastily  to  their  horses  or  drew  back 
from  before  him  he  came  on,  running  like  a  great, 
gaunt  greyhound.  Many  voices  were  lifted,  shout 
ing.  MacKelvey  heard  and  understood.  He 
shoved  his  foot  into  its  stirrup  and  as  he  leaped 
into  the  saddle  his  revolver  jumped  out  into  his 
hand. 


"I  call  upon  you  to  give  yourself  up!"  he  shouted. 
Red,  or  I  shoot  this  time!" 


'Stop, 


RED  RECKLESS  ON  LITTLE  SAXON     339 

"  I  call  upon  you  to  give  yourself  up ! "  he 
shouted.  "Stop,  Red,  or  I  shoot  this  time!" 

Dart  held  a  trimmed  branch  in  his  hand  and  as 
MacKelvey  called  Dart  struck.  The  blow  fell 
heavily  upon  the  sheriff's  wrist.  MacKelvey  cursed, 
wheeled  his  horse  and  without  heeding  Dart  shouted 
again  to  Shandon. 

Venable  and  Denbigh,  forewarned  by  Dart's 
quick  whispered  words,  had  their  eyes  upon  Shan 
don.  They  ran  to  the  line  that  marked  the  start 
and  stood,  one  at  each  end  of  it,  their  eyes  bright, 
their  hands  pointing  so  that  Shandon's  start  should 
be  fair.  And  Shandon,  tossing  back  his  head  as  he 
rode,  rushed  down  towards  them,  shot  between 
them,  turned  down  the  knoll  after  Hume. 

The  gun  in  MacKelvey's  hand  spat  flame  and 
lead.  The  bullet,  aimed  high,  hissed  above  Shan 
don's  head. 

"  Stop !  "  cried  the  sheriff  lustily,  driving  his  spurs 
into  his  own  horse's  sides  and  dashing  across  the  line 
between  Venable  and  Denbigh.  "  By  God,  Red,  I'll 
kill  you !  " 

"  Give  him  a  chance,  man!"  bellowed  Big  Bill, 
his  voice  shaking,  his  face  red.  "  Look  at  that 
damned  cur  Hume." 

Hume  had  seen  and  again  had  turned,  was  bend 
ing  over  his  horse's  neck,  using  his  spurs  in  the  first 
start  of  his  surprise.  The  men  over  yonder  had  an 
inkling  of  what  was  happening  and  their  glasses 
were  turned  steadily  upon  the  knoll. 


340  THE  SHORT  CUT 

Shandon  without  turning,  laughed  aloud,  all  the 
relief  after  months  of  hiding  breaking  out  into 
laughter  that  was  utterly  unlike  the  sound  that  had 
come  so  short  a  time  ago  from  Hume's  contemptuous 
lips.  It  was  a  great,  boyish,  carefree,  reckless  laugh 
that  made  men  wonder. 

"  Next  time,  Mac,"  he  shouted  back.  "  Ten  to 
one  you  can't  catch  me  before  I  beat  Hume  to  it!  " 

Almost  in  his  own  words  of  many  months  ago  Big 
Bill  was  muttering  softly, 

"  God!  What  a  pair  of  them!  " 

More  than  a  quarter  of  a  mile  away  Sledge  Hume, 
his  jaws  hard  set,  his  eyes  burning  ominously,  was 
racing  on,  saving  his  horse  a  little  now.  Down  the 
knoll  drove  Red  Shandon,  rushing  on  his  race  with 
a  handicap  in  front  and  a  revolver  spitting  its  menace 
behind.  Fifty  yards  after  him,  his  face  as  hard  as 
Hume's,  came  MacKelvey,  thundering  along  on  his 
big  rawboned  sorrel,  the  sheriff  whom  men  already 
criticised  for  not  making  an  arrest. 

Upon  the  ridge  where  the  signal  men  were,  the 
levelled  glasses  were  dropped  as  another  square  of 
white  ran  up  the  dead  pine  to  carry  its  word  that  the 
race  was  now  a  two  man  race.  The  fifty  yards  be 
tween  MacKelvey  and  Shandon  lengthened  as  Shan 
don  was  forced  to  put  Little  Saxon  to  his  best. 
For  MacKelvey  was  shooting  as  he  rode  and  he  was 
not  shooting  for  fun;  there  was  no  man  in  the 
county  who  wasted  less  lead  than  its  sheriff. 

Suddenly  the  knoll  was  deserted.     Even  Willie 


RED  RECKLESS  ON  LITTLE  SAXON    341 

Dart  had  scrambled  to  his  horse,  even  he  was  chas 
ing  along  wildly,  oblivious  of  the  steep  pitch,  of  a 
more  than  likely  fall.  To  Big  Bill's  voice  had 
joined  other  voices,  shouting  to  MacKelvey  to  give 
the  man  a  chance.  But  MacKelvey  did  not  lis 
ten. 

They  tried  to  push  their  horses  between  him  and 
the  man  it  was  his  sworn  duty  to  bring  into  court. 
But  MacKelvey  kept  to  the  fore,  realising  that  they 
would  try  to  do  just  this  thing.  He  raised  himself 
in  his  stirrups  and  as  his  hand  went  up  he  fired  for 
the  third  time.  The  cry  that  burst  out  after  the 
shot  was  full  of  anger,  for  every  one  had  seen  Red 
Shandon  suddenly  crumple  in  his  saddle.  But  Little 
Saxon,  running  as  he  had  never  run  before,  toward 
the  trees  that  were  thickening  in  front  of  him, 
swerved  off  to  the  left  and  was  lost  to  the  eyes  of  the 
men  sixty  and  seventy-five  yards  behind.  There  the 
hammering  of  his  hoofs  came  back  to  them  from  the 
hard  ground  of  another  ridge. 

"  If  you've  killed  him,'1  grunted  Big  Bill  into  Mac- 
Kelvey's  ear  as  his  horse  came  abreast  of  the 
sheriff's,  "  you  might  as  well  make  a  clean-up  and 
get  me,  too." 

But  in  a  moment  they  again  caught  sight  of  Little 
Saxon  through  the  trees,  and  they  saw  that  Wayne 
Shandon  was  still  in  the  saddle,  sitting  bolt  upright, 
that  he  had  shifted  his  reins  to  his  right  hand,  that 
his  left  arm  was  swinging  grotesquely  at  his  side. 

"  I  got  him,"  grunted  MacKelvey. 


342  THE  SHORT  CUT 

Already,  with  close  to  ten  miles  ahead  of  him, 
with  Hume  still  a  quarter  of  a  mile  to  the  fore, 
Wayne  Shandon's  face  had  turned  white,  his  shirt 
was  slowly  turning  red.  The  bullet  from  the  heavy 
calibre  revolver  MacKelvey  used  had  struck  in  the 
shoulder. 

"  He's  swerved  out  of  his  course, "  was  MacKel- 
vey's  next  thought.  "  He  is  losing  ground  right 
now.  I'll  cut  him  off  before  he  can  get  to  the 
bridge." 

In  the  moment  that  the  impact  of  the  bullet  made 
Shandon  crumple  and  reel  and  clutch  at  his  saddle 
horn,  he  went  dizzy,  almost  blind  with  the  shock. 
In  that  moment  Little  Saxon  feeling  the  reins  drop 
upon  his  neck,  turned  out  to  the  left,  striking  for  an 
open  clearing.  He  should  have  turned  to  the  right 
as  a  thicket  of  chaparral  lay  in  front  now,  and  there 
was  no  turning  back.  So,  when  Shandon's  right 
hand  shut  down  tight  upon  the  reins,  gathering  them 
up,  there  was  but  one  thing  to  do,  turn  still  further  to 
the  left,  skirt  the  thicket,  try  to  turn  to  the  right 
again  upon  the  further  side.  He  was  losing  ground 
and  he  knew  it;  but  it  was  early  in  the  race. 

"  They've  handicapped  us,  Little  Saxon,"  he  said 
through  set  teeth.  "  But  we'll  show  them  a  race 
yet." 

Ten  miles  of  broken  country,  of  hard  riding,  and 
the  blood  was  hot  on  the  man's  side  and  back 
while  every  leap  of  his  horse  shot  him  through  with 
pain.  Ten  miles  and  Endymion,  Little  Saxon's  full 


RED  RECKLESS  ON  LITTLE  SAXON     343 

brother,  would  be  half  a  mile  ahead  before  the 
thicket  was  circled. 

"  After  all  Hume  wins!  "  cursed  Big  Bill. 

"  It  ain't  fair!  It  ain't  fair!  "  Dart's  tremulous 
voice  was  shrieking  from  far  in  the  rear.  "  That 
big  boob  — " 

"  There's  ten  miles  of  it,  Little  Saxon,"  Shandon 
was  muttering  over  and  over.  "  And  the  race  isn't 
run  yet.  You  won't  let  Endymion  beat  you,  Little 
Saxon !  You  won't  let  Sledge  Hume  — " 

He  cut  sharply  through  the  outer  edge  of  the 
thicket  and  Little  Saxon's  lean  body,  leaping  like  a 
greyhound's,  lifted  and  glinted  over  the  ragged 
bushes.  He  swung  to  the  right  again,  and  saw  Mac- 
Kelvey,  Big  Bill  riding  at  his  side,  cutting  across  a 
little  hollow  to  intercept  him.  And  again,  with  no 
alternative,  he  turned  his  horse  out  of  the  course, 
and  kept  on  up  the  higher  land  to  his  left. 

Now  Hume  was  lost  to  him ;  MacKelvey  and  the 
others  dropped  out  of  sight;  and  he  was  riding  his 
race  alone.  He  knew  that  Little  Saxon  could  stand 
up  under  all  that  a  horse  could  endure ;  but  he  knew, 
too,  that  no  horse  that  was  ever  foaled  could  keep 
up  such  a  mad  pace  for  ten  miles,  that  the  gallant 
brute's  heart  would  burst  with  five  miles  of  it.  He 
tightened  his  reins  a  little,  forcing  the  horse  against 
its  will  to  slacken  speed. 

Now  he  bent  in  the  saddle,  easing  his  body  as 
well  as  he  could,  trying  not  to  feel  the  pain  that 
grew  steadily  in  his  shoulder.  [The  lower  branches 


344  THE  SHORT  CUT 

of  the  trees  through  which  he  sped  whipped  at 
him  and  he  did  not  feel  them.  Far  ahead  he  saw 
two  squares  of  white  fluttering  high  against  the  blue 
of  the  sky,  and  he  knew  the  message  that  they  car 
ried  across  the  miles.  He  thought  of  how  he  and 
Wanda  had  signalled,  how  she  would  be  at  the  Bar 
L-M  with  the  rest,  how  she  would  understand  what 
those  two  signals  meant.  For  he  had  not  told  her, 
he  had  told  no  one  but  Dart  who  had  brought  Little 
Saxon  to  him  last  night,  and  who,  later,  had  told  the 
starters  at  the  last  moment.  Shandon  had  realised 
that  there  would  be  danger  in  this  mad  act  of  his 
and  that  had  she  known  beforehand  Wanda  would 
have  been  frightened. 

Again,  a  mile  further  on,  he  tried  to  swing  back 
into  the  cleared  course  that  would  bring  him  the 
shortest  way  to  the  bridge.  Again  he  saw  that 
MacKelvey  had  anticipated  this,  and,  was  coming 
close  to  killing  his  own  horse  to  cut  him  off.  And, 
his  eyes  growing  black,  the  fear  of  the  end  of  the 
race  came  upon  him.  Had  he  done  this  wild  thing 
for  nothing  then?  Was  it  but  to  be  proof  to  the 
men  who  called  him  fool  that  fool  he  was?  He 
bent  his  head  and  loosened  his  reins. 

He  knew  that,  far  ahead  of  him,  Sledge  Hume 
was  riding  the  easier  way,  that  he  was  working  down 
from  the  more  broken  rangeland,  that  he  was  stead 
ily  nearing  the  bridge  in  the  straightest  line.  He 
knew  that  MacKelvey  had  a  rifle  strapped  to  his 
saddle  and  that  long  before  now  the  rifle  would  be 


RED  RECKLESS  ON  LITTLE  SAXON     345 

in  MacKelvey's  hands.  He  knew  that  at  the  end  of 
the  race  Wanda  Leland,  her  heart  beating  madly  for 
him,  was  waiting. 

"  Can't  you  do  it,  Little  Saxon?  "  he  whispered. 
"  For  her  sake,  can't  you  do  it?  " 

Mile  after  mile  slipped  away  behind  him,  the 
course  was  half  run,  and  he  had  not  come  down  into 
the  road  which  led  to  the  Bar  L-M.  He  knew  that 
he  was  losing  at  every  jump  the  great  hearted  horse 
made  under  him;  he  knew  that  it  was  not  Little 
Saxon's  fault  as  he  had  never  known  until  now  what 
speed  and  strength  lay  in  that  wonderful  body. 
Who's  fault,  then?  Hume  was  beating  him,  Hume 
would  be  at  the  finish  laughing,  waiting  for  him  to 
come  in  — 

"  You've  got  to  do  it,  Little  Saxon,"  he  cried 
softly,  his  voice  pleading.  "  Why,  we  can't  let 
Hume—" 

He  broke  off  suddenly,  his  eyes  filling  with  light. 
He  had  seen  the  way  —  and  it  was  Wanda  who  had 
shown  it  to  him. 

"  Steady,  Saxon,"  he  said,  his  own  voice  steady, 
confident,  determined.  "We'll  do  it,  little  horse. 
Let  Hume  beat  us  to  the  Bridge ;  we'll  take  the  short 
cut!  " 

From  the  Bar  L-M  grounds  a  faint  cry  went  up 
as  scores  of  lifted  field  glasses  made  out  the  figure 
of  one  man  riding  strongly  toward  the  bridge.  It 
was  Hume,  Hume  alone,  riding  as  Hume  rode,  well 


346  THE  SHORT  CUT 

and  erect.  There  was  the  hammer  of  Endymion's 
hoofs  as  they  rattled  against  the  heavy  planking,  and 
then  — 

"  Look !     Look !     Oh,  my  God !  Look !  " 

It  was  a  woman's  voice,  a  hysterical  little  woman 
from  Reno,  crying  out,  terror-stricken.  Her  arm 
had  shot  out;  her  finger  was  pointing  toward  the 
chasm  of  the  river. 

Then  the  shout  that  swept  up  about  the  Bar  L-M 
was  no  longer  faint.  The  voices  of  women  were 
drowned  in  the  deep  roar  of  men's  shouts.  Wanda, 
her  hands  convulsively  going  to  her  breast,  her  face 
as  white  as  death,  moved  her  lips,  making  no  sound. 
But  her  soul  spoke  and  prayed,  prayed  to  God  not 
to  let  her  mad  lover  do  this  mad  thing.  What  was 
a  race,  what  was  defeat! 

Wayne  Shandon,  riding  as  straight  as  Hume  now, 
his  hair  flashing  its  red  at  them,  his  face  strangely 
white, —  some  one  cried  that  he  was  afraid, —  had 
come  to  the  short  cut.  His  eyes  leaving  the  way  in 
front  of  him  for  a  swift  second  saw  the  form  of  a 
girl  standing  out  from  the  crowd  and  failed  to  se*e 
the  crowd  that  was  watching  him,  for  the  instant  for 
getful  of  Sledge  Hume  riding  on  his  spurs,  sweeping 
on  across  the  bridge  that  rocked  under  him.  Then 
Shandon's  eyes  came  back  to  the  black  gulf  where  a 
white  snowshoe  rabbit  had  found  death,  which  a 
white  maiden  had  leaped  for  his  sake. 

"  We  can  do  it,  Little  Saxon,"  he  said  gently. 
"  We  can  do  it  for  Wanda,  can't  we?  She'd  hate  to 


RED  RECKLESS  ON  LITTLE  SAXON    347 

see  us  beaten  by  Hume.  For  Wanda,  Little  Saxon. 
Now!  " 

The  roar  of  the  water  smote  upon  Little  Saxon's 
ears,  the  deep  chasm  seemed  a  live  and  evil  thing 
snapping  at  him.  But  he  rushed  on  toward  it,  he 
felt  his  master's  hand,  he  heard  his  master  talking 
to  him,  and  he  had  learned  to  love  and  trust  his  mas 
ter.  He  swept  on,  down  the  slope,  gathering  speed 
at  each  great  bounding  leap,  racing  as  few  have  seen 
a  horse  run,  sensing  the  end  of  the  race,  sniffing  vic 
tory  with  quivering  flaring  nostrils.  He  felt  the 
sudden  slackening  of  his  reins  as  Shandon  whispered, 
"  Now!  ";  he  knew  that  his  master  had  put  his  life 
into  his  horse's  keeping;  knew  that  he  was  loved  and 
trusted  in  this  final  moment  even  as  he  gave  his  own 
love  and  trust;  and  gathering  the  great,  iron  muscles 
of  his  great  iron  body,  he  leaped. 

He  leaped,  flinging  his  body  recklessly.  Upon  his 
back  Wayne  Shandon,  sitting  very  still  and  tense  and 
erect,  his  eyes  upon  the  form  of  a  girl,  his  life  in 
Little  Saxon's  keeping,  had  essayed  the  thing  that 
no  one  had  expected  even  Red  Reckless  to  do.  The 
white  froth  of  the  water  flashed  under  them,  the 
jagged  rocks  menaced,  the  boom  of  the  river  deaf 
ened  them.  As  he  had  leaped  before,  that  first  day 
when  Shandon  and  Big  Bill  had  come  upon  him, 
Little  Saxon  leaped  now.  And  as  he  landed  his 
hind  feet  sent  a  rattle  of  stones  down  into  the  hun 
gering  gulf  below. 

There  had  been  a  silence  as  of  death.     Now  there 


348  THE  SHORT  CUT 

was  a  shout  that  drowned  the  roar  of  the  river 
robbed  of  its  prey.  Men  yelled  and  threw  their 
arms  up  and  yelled  again. 

On  came  Endymion  carrying  Sledge  Hume  who 
had  at  last  understood  and  who  now  was  riding  with, 
bloody  spurs  and  a  quirt  that  cut  in  swift  vicious 
blows  at  his  horse's  sweating  hide. 

On  came  Little  Saxon,  snorting  his  defiance  to  his 
brother,  Red  Reckless  sitting  straight  in  the  saddle, 
his  spurs  clean. 

Quick  hands  had  run  the  taut  string  across  the  end 
of  the  course.  Two  big  horses  carrying  two  big 
men  shot  across  it.  But  the  breast  of  one  had 
struck  a  dozen  lengths  ahead  of  the  other,  and 
through  the  echoing  babel  the  judge's  voice  was  lost 
as  he  shouted: 

"  Wayne  Shandon  on  Little  Saxon  wins !  " 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

THE  LAUGHTER  OF   HELGA   STRAWN 

"\  "\  JILL    you    tell     your    mistress,"     Sledge 
Hume    commanded,    "  that    I    want    to 


W 


speak  with  her  immediately?  Immedi 
ately,  do  you  hear?" 

The  capable  looking  maid  favoured  him  with 
swift,  keen  scrutiny,  noticed  that  Endymion,  tied  to 
the  gate  post,  was  sweating  and  dust  covered,  saw 
that  Hume  was  dusty  from  riding  and  that  his  eyes 
were  full  of  purpose,  and  went  upon  her  errand. 
Hume  stalked  into  the  living  room  where  he  had 
grown  to  be  so  much  at  home,  and  driving  his  hands 
into  his  pockets  stood  frowning  out  of  the  window 
through  which  the  warm  fragrant  June  air  came  in 
from  the  sunny  fields. 

With  the  determination  in  his  eyes  there  was  the 
unhidden,  black  anger  that  had  not  been  absent  from 
them  during  the  man's  waking  hours  for  a  week. 
The  spirit  under  the  hard  shell  of  a  cool  indifference 
had  been  touched,  and  was  raw  and  quivering  be 
neath  the  lashes  his  fate  had  brought  upon  him.  On 
the  day  of  the  races  he  had  lost  five  thousand  dollars 
that  he  could  ill  afford  to  lose,  and  with  it  counted 
that  he  had  lost  another  five  thousand  which  he  had 
told  himself  had  always  been  as  good  as  his.  He 

349 


350  THE  SHORT  CUT 

had  shown  men  that  he  was  a  bad  loser,  by  flying 
into  an  ungovernable  rage  that  vented  its  fury  upon 
Endymion  until  savage  voices  cried  to  him  to  hold 
his  quirt  or  he  would  be  jerked  from  the  saddle. 
He  had  seen  that  the  slow  turning  tables  were  turn 
ing  at  last.  He  had  seen  Wayne  Shandon,  the  man 
always  in  his  way,  white  and  fainting  from  sheer  loss 
of  blood,  turn  smiling  and  give  himself  up  to  the 
sheriff.  He  had  seen  Red  Shandon  the  hero  of  a 
crowd  that  went  wild  over  him;  had  heard  even 
MacKelvey's  rough  voice  crying  bluntly,  "  There's 
a  man  for  you !  " 

But  anger  and  hatred,  swelling  venernously  in  his 
heart,  had  only  hardened  him,  making  him  the  more 
determined.  He  did  not  doubt,  he  did  not  fear. 
Not  enough  had  happened  to  undermine  the  man's 
cold,  dominating  strength,  to  alter  the  essential  fact 
in  his  mind  that  he  was  Hume  and  that  people  who 
strove  against  him  were  fools  doomed  to  defeat. 
But  before  he  heard  the  silken  rustle  of  Helga 
Strawn's  approach  there  was  to  come  to  him  a  new 
sign  of  the  future  that  was  rushing  down  upon  him. 

As  usual  Helga  kept  him  waiting.  He  tapped  at 
the  window  with  a  hand  that  he  jerked  impatiently 
from  his  pocket;  he  turned,  thinking  that  he  heard 
her  steps;  he  walked  back  and  forth  in  the  room. 
And  thus  it  happened  that  his  eyes  fell  upon  a  large 
sheet  of  paper  lying  upon  the  table,  his  own  name 
typed  in  capitals  across  the  top.  His  frowning  eyes 
read  the  few  lines  swiftly: 


LAUGHTER  OF  HELGA  STRAWN    351 

"  Your  tunnel  is  already  one  hundred 
and  fifty-three  feet  upon  Shandon  prop 
erty.  That  is  far  enough." 

There  was  no  signature. 

A  child  has  an  instinctive  fear  of  the  dark;  the 
thing  a  man  does  not  understand  brings  from  the 
obscurity  of  the  unknown  a  certain,  vague  dread. 
Who  had  written  this  thing?  There  was  no 
answer.  Why?  No  answer.  How  did  it  come 
here,  who  could  have  known  that  Hume  would  see 
it  here?  No  answer.  It  was  as  though  a  warning, 
taking  form  from  the  invisible  air  had  fallen  from 
the  air  before  his  startled  eyes. 

He  swept  up  the  paper,  crumpling  it  in  his  fingers. 
He  had  not  heard  Helga  Strawn,  did  not  know  that 
she  was  in  the  room  until  she  spoke  quietly. 

"  Is  fate  relenting?  Or  are  you  still  playing  the 
losing  game?  " 

He  swung  upon  her  sharply.  His  eyes,  glittering 
and  hard,  met  hers  softly  luminous.  He  had  never 
seen  the  woman  so  radiantly,  regally  beautiful,  per 
haps  because  he  had  never  seen  her  so  keenly  alive 
as  she  was  to-day.  Although  his  brain  was  riotous 
with  other  things  he  could  not  fail  to  note  the  superb 
carriage,  the  rich  gown  daringly  fashionable,  the 
warm  whiteness  of  arms  and  throat,  the  finely  chis 
elled  red  lips  that  were  unsmiling. 

"  The  losing  game?"  he  cried,  coming  swiftly 
toward  her,  stopping  only  when  his  tall  form  towered 


352  THE  SHORT  CUT 

over  her.  "  By  God,  no !  I  have  lost  a  trick  here, 
a  trick  there.  A  man  counts  upon  that  sort  of  thing. 
That  little  shrimp  Conway  is  scared  of  his  life  and 
is  for  pulling  out.  I'm  glad  of  it.  He'll  sell  to  me 
before  he'll  go  to  Shandon.  Let  Leland  pull  out, 
too.  We'll  take  him  over.  I'm  going  to  win,  I  tell 
you,  Claire  HazletonI  We're  going  to  win,  you 
and  I.  Win  big!" 

There  was  no  change  in  her  cool  eyes.  She 
swept  by  him,  not  turning  out  an  inch  to  pass,  her 
skirts  brushing  him,  and  dropped  idly  into  her  chair. 
He  followed,  and  stood  over  her  again. 

"  Shandon  is  going  to  be  acquitted,"  she  said. 
"  You  know  that.  He'll  be  set  free  in  ten  days. 
Then  what?" 

"  Then  we'll  take  him  in  with  us.  We'll  get  the 
water  and  that's  all  we  want  any  way  you  put  it. 
Inside  six  months  we'll  be  subdividing  and  getting 
our  money  back." 

She  laughed. 

"  So  you  think  that  Shandon  will  jump  at  the 
chance  to  go  into  any  sort  of  partnership  with 
you?" 

"  We'll  make  him,"  crisply.  "  He  has  retained 
Brisbane,  the  biggest,  highest  priced  criminal  lawyer 
this  side  the  Rockies.  He  has  cleared  up  his  mort 
gage  but  he's  had  to  mortgage  again  to  do  it.  He's 
in  debt  up  to  his  eyes.  We'll  make  him  a  proposi 
tion  that  will  show  him  the  way  to  clear  himself.  I 
tell  you,  Claire,  he'll  have  to  do  it." 


LAUGHTER  OF  HELGA  STRAWN    353 

"  You  say  we,"  she  reminded  him,  lifting  her 
white  shoulders. 

"  And  I  mean  you  and  I,"  he  returned  bluntly. 
"  IVe  come  here  to  do  some  straight  talking." 
There  leaped  up  into  his  eyes  a  light  she  had  never 
seen  there  until  now,  a  quick  colour  ran  into  his 
cheeks.  "  I  want  you  to  marry  me,  Claire." 

Perhaps  the  woman's  pulse  quickened.  Certainly 
no  change  in  her  expression,  no  quiver  of  a  muscle, 
no  deepened  breathing  told  that  a  supreme  moment 
had  come  into  her  life,  a  moment  she  had  long  and 
unceasingly  striven  for. 

"  Do  you?  "  she  asked  indifferently.     "  Why?  " 

"  Because,"  he  cried,  "  you  are  like  no  other 
woman  in  all  the  world.  Because  the  things  that 
I  want  are  the  things  that  you  want.  Because  we 
should  be  a  man  and  a  woman,  mated,  to  take  our 
places  in  the  world  and  hold  them.  Where  there 
is  man's  work  I  can  do  it;  where  there  is  woman's 
work  you  can  do  it.  We  are  young;  in  ten  years' 
time  we  can  rise  to  whatever  we  care  to  set  our  eyes 
upon.  Why  do  I  want  you?  Just  because  in  biain 
and  in  body  you  are  the  woman  in  the  world  fitted  to 
occupy  the  place  that  shall  be  my  wife's." 

"  Other  men  have  asked  me  to  marry  them,"  she 
said  coolly.  "  I  think  that  all  of  them  have  said 
something  about  love." 

"  And  I  love  you,"  he  told  her.  "  A  man  can 
not  come  to  care  for  a  woman  without  her  knowing 
it.  I  don't  come  to  you  bleating  about  a  breaking 


354  THE  SHORT  CUT 

heart,  because  you  are  no  fool  and  I  am  no  fool. 
If  you  were  the  kind  to  care  about  a  lot  of  senti 
mental  rot  you  wouldn't  be  the  woman  you  are,  you 
wouldn't  be  the  woman  I'd  want.  I'd  be  good  to 
you.  I'd  give  you  the  power  that  a  beautiful  woman 
with  a  strong,  rich  husband  can  come  to  have  in  San 
Francisco,  in  New  York,  in  London  if  you  like. 
When  I  rise  you'll  rise  with  me.  I'll  have  men  know 
that  my  wife  shall  have  the  place,  above  the  heads 
of  their  wives,  that  she  wants.  And  I'll  be  proud 
of  you!" 

Then  he  got  his  answer  as  seldom  a  woman  has 
answered  a  man.  She  lifted  her  eyes  to  his,  she  put 
back  her  head  with  the  tossing  regal  gesture  he  knew 
so  well,  her  lips  parted  slowly  —  and  she  laughed. 
Laughed  at  him  in  a  sudden  mirth  of  leaping  scorn, 
that  was  hard  and  cruel,  that  mocked  and  sneered  at 
him,  that  took  supreme  toll  of  the  supreme  moment. 
Laughed  as  she  saw  the  light  quiver  and  die  in  his 
eyes,  as  the  colour  faded  from  his  cheeks  and  ran 
back  red. 

"  Love  me !  "  she  cried  scornfully.  "  You'd  be 
proud  of  me!  Why?  When  you  answered  you 
forgot  to  tell  the  truth,  Mr.  Hume.  Because  you 
need  me,  because  you  are  beaten  now  and  must  come 
hiding  a  whimper  under  big  words,  come  to  a  woman 
who  holds  you  so  in  the  hollow  of  her  hand  that  she 
can  break  you  so  utterly  that  your  own  overweening 
conceit  cannot  find  the  fragments  with  the  micro 
scope  of  a  distorted  vanity !  Love  me  as  you'd  love 


LAUGHTER  OF  HELGA  STRAWN    355 

any  other  fine  thing  just  because  it  was  yours.  Be 
cause  you'd  use  me,  because  you  see  that  such  a  wife 
as  I  could  be  would  be  but  a  stone  for  you  to  stand 
on  to  climb  up  a  little  higher.  And  you  think  that 
of  all  men  in  the  world  I  should  choose  a  man  like 
you  for  husband?  " 

She  jeered  openly  at  him,  disdaining  to  see  the  red 
anger  flaring  in  his  eyes.  She  remembered  the  rea 
son  that  had  brought  her  to  him  in  the  beginning  and 
a  savage  gladness  in  her  rejoiced  at  finding  the  vic 
tory  all  that  she  had  yearned  for.  Her  dominant 
blood  was  seething  to  the  surface.  And  it  was 
Hume  blood. 

"  Listen  to  me  a  minute,"  she  cried  sharply  as  he 
was  about  to  speak.  "  You've  come  for  straight 
talk  to-day,  you  say.  Let  us  have  it  then.  You 
have  gone  your  way  boastfully,  arrogantly,  unscru 
pulously  and  it  has  been  the  fool's  way.  You  are 
playing  the  losing  game  and  it  isn't  even  in  you  to 
lose  like  a  man.  You  have  stared  at  the  glitter  of 
gold  so  long  that  you  have  gone  blind  looking  at  it. 
Your  own  infallibility  has  loomed  so  large  before 
you  that  you  have  lost  your  sanity.  I  say  listen  to 
me !  "  her  voice  ringing  with  its  command.  "  I  am 
going  to  tell  you  something.  I  am  going  to  tell  you 
why  I  came  to  you,  why  I  suffered  you  day  after 
day  to  come  to  me.  And  what  I  came  for  I  am 
going  to  get.  You  are  going  to  give  it  to  me !  " 

She  had  sprung  to  her  feet,  twin  spots  of  colour 
upon  her  white  cheeks,  her  eyes  blazing. 


356  THE  SHORT  CUT 

'*  You  told  me  that  you  had  paid  five  thousand 
dollars  to  Helga  Strawn  for  her  interest  in  the  Dry 
Lands !  Liar !  You  paid  her  twenty-five  thou 
sand!" 

"Well?"  he  snarled  harshly.     "What  of  it?" 

"  You  laughed  about  it.  You  said  that  she  was 
a  fool  like  most  women.  Like  all  women,  was  what 
you  thought!  And  women  were  made  just  for  you 
to  tread  upon  and  sneer  at.  You  did  not  know  that 
I  knew  a  great  deal  more  about  Helga  Strawn  than 
you  ever  guessed !  " 

"  You  —  know  —  Helga  —  Strawn !  " 

The  words  beat  at  her  like  stinging,  separate 
blows.  And  now  it  had  come  into  his  eyes,  the  thing 
that  had  never  been  there,  the  thing  that  would 
never  die  out  of  the  man's  soul  while  life  clung  to 
him, —  fear. 

"  I  know  you,  to  the  last  spot  you  think  youVe 
covered  up,"  she  ran  on  swiftly.  "  So  well  that  I 
know  I  am  about  to  stir  you  into  one  of  your  mad 
fits  of  rage.  And  I  am  not  afraid  to  do  it.  You'd 
kill  me  if  you  dared,  but  you  won't  dare.  For  after 
all  I  think  that  in  your  braggadocio  way  you  are  a 
coward,  Sledge  Hume." 

"  You  cat !  "  he  flung  at  her  with  an  attempt  at 
his  old  manner. 

"  I  have  two  men  working  out  yonder,"  she  said 
coolly.  u  If  I  called  to  them  — "  She  shrugged 
her  shoulders.  "  I  want  to  tell  you  all  that  you  are 
hungering  to  know  even  while  you  are  afraid  to  hear 


LAUGHTER  OF  HELGA  STRAWN    357 

it.  Helga  Strawn  got  your  check  for  five  thousand 
dollars.  She  got,  also,  a  Wells  Fargo  order  from 
Sacramento  for  twenty  thousand.  Sent  by  a  ficti 
tious  Arnold  Wentworth.  Ah !  " 

For  he  had  cried  out  sharply,  his  face  was  dead 
white,  his  eyes  were  filled  with  horror.  His  pre 
monition  had  come. 

"  Who  committed  the  crime  you  charged  Wayne 
Shandon  with?"  she  demanded  fearlessly.  "  Who 
killed  Arthur  Shandon  and  robbed  him  of  twenty- 
five  thousand  dollars?  If  Helga  Strawn  came  into 
court  and  told  all  that  she  knows  do  you  realise  what 
a  jury  would  say  about  it?  " 

"  The  things  you  are  saying  are  lies,"  he  cried 
back  at  her,  driving  his  hands  into  his  pockets  that 
she  might  not  see  that  they  were  shaking. 

He  stared  after  her  in  wonder  as  she  went  swiftly 
to  the  table  and  unlocked  a  drawer.  He  wondered 
more  as  she  snatched  out  a  folded  paper  and  brought 
it  to  him. 

"  Sign  that,"  she  said  curtly.  "  Get  it  witnessed 
before  a  notary  and  send  it  to  me  and  Helga  Strawn 
will  forget  what  she  knows." 

A  glance  showed  him  the  significance  of  the  docu 
ment.  It  was  a  deed,  properly  drawn,  needing  but 
his  own  signature  to  return  to  Helga  Strawn  the 
lands  he  had  bought  from  her. 

"  So,"  he  sneered,  "  you  are  trying  a  little  black 
mail,  are  you?  You  are  a  spy  and  Helga  Strawn's 
agent,  I  suppose?  " 


358  THE  SHORT  CUT 

Again  she  laughed  at  him. 

"  I  attend  to  my  own  business,  my  dear  cousin," 
her  voice  very  like  his.  "  If  you  hadn't  been  a  fool 
you'd  have  known  that  I  was  Helga  Strawn  six 
months  ago.  Blackmail?  Call  it  what  you  like. 
It  is  your  one  chance  to  save  your  neck.  I  know 
that  in  one  of  your  mad  fits  of  anger  you  killed 
Arthur  Shandon.  I  know  that  you  took  his  money. 
And  I  am  not  the  only  one  in  the  country  who  knows 
or  suspects  it.  Your  chance  is  slim  enough  as  it  is, 
Mr.  Hume.  Don't  make  it  worse." 

Blow  after  blow  until  the  man  set  his  muscles  like 
iron  to  keep  his  body  from  shaking  as  his  soul  shook. 
This  was  the  greatest  shock  of  all  because  it  struck 
at  the  keynote  of  his  nature,  this  knowledge  that  a 
woman  had  tricked  him,  that  she  had  played  with 
him,  that  now  she  held  him  as  she  said  so  bluntly,  in 
the  hollow  of  her  hand. 

"  You  traitress !  "  he  cried  hoarsely.  "  You  mis 
erable  traitress !  " 

And  Helga  Strawn  laughed. 

"  It  will  take  you  a  couple  of  hours  to  ride  into 
El  Toyon,"  she  said.  "  That  will  give  you  time  to 
think  it  over.  If  you  decide  to  sign  the  deed  and 
send  it  to  me  to-night  I'll  do  my  part.  If  I  don't 
get  the  deed  to-night  I'll  go  into  town  in  the  morning 
for  a  talk  with  the  district  attorney.  I  think  I've 
got  you  where  I  want  you,  Mr.  Hume." 

The  things  which  Hume  said  to  her  she  accepted 


LAUGHTER  OF  HELGA  STRAWN    359 

indifferently.  She  had  never  known  that  a  man 
could  find  such  words  to  utter  to  a  woman.  When 
she  has  listened  long  enough  she  turned  and  went 
out  of  the  room,  going  upstairs  and  standing  by  her 
window  where  she  could  see  him  as  he  went  out.  As 
she  saw  him  striding  down  the  walk  toward  his 
horse,  jamming  the  deed  into  his  pocket  as  he  went, 
her  eyes  suddenly  grew  wet,  and  she  stamped  her 
foot  angrily. 

"  Of  all  men  living  I  hate  you  most !  "  she  cried 
passionately.  And  then,  softly,  more  softly  than 
any  one  had  ever  heard  her  speak,  u  And  you  come 
closer  to  being  a  man  than  any  man  I  ever  knew. 
I  wonder — " 

The  fury  within  him  demanding  some  sort  of  ex 
pression  found  it  in  the  swift  stride  that  carried  him 
blindly  down  the  walk.  He  came  almost  at  a  run 
to  his  horse.  Endymion,  mindful  of  the  unpro 
voked  blows  and  tearing  spurs  of  a  week  ago,  dis 
trustful,  afraid,  whirled,  rearing  and  plunging,  and 
broke  the  reins  that  had  been  tossed  over  the  post. 
Hume,  venting  upon  a  trifle  the  wrath  that  seethed 
within  him,  shouted  angrily,  cursing  the  horse  that 
dashed  by  him. 

The  horse,  seeing  his  way  through  the  gate  shut 
off,  turned  and  dashed  around  the  house,  seeking  a 
break  in  the  yard  fence.  Hume  ran  after  him,  still 
cursing.  The  two  men  who  were  working  in  the 
yard  lay  down  their  rakes  and  shovels  and  came  up. 


360  THE  SHORT  CUT 

The  three  of  them  cornered  the  frightened  brute. 
But  when  Hume,  his  hand  outstretched  for  the  dan 
gling,  broken  rein,  came  within  half  a  dozen  feet, 
Endymion,  snorting  his  fear,  plunged  by  him,  racing 
into  another  corner. 

Again  they  closed  about  him,  again  he  plunged 
through,  mad  with  fear,  making  the  madness  in 
Sledge  Hume  a  speechless,  raging  fury.  A  third 
time  they  tried,  and  as  the  big  horse  shot  by  Hume's 
temper  mastered  him  as  it  had  mastered  him  once 
before. 

"  God  damn  you !  "  he  shouted  wildly.  "  Take 
that!" 

As  he  shouted  he  jerked  his  revolver  from  his 
pocket  and  fired.  Fired,  saw  the  big  animal  stagger 
and  fired  again. 

He  went  to  the  stable  for  one  of  Helga's  horses. 
His  hands  were  shaking  as  he  saddled  and  got  the 
bit  into  the  animal's  mouth.  With  no  look  behind 
him  he  mounted,  spurred  out  into  the  road  and  gal 
loped  off  toward  El  Toyon. 

Helga  Strawn  from  her  window  coolly  ordered 
the  two  men  to  put  the  wounded  horse  out  of  his 
misery  and  to  drag  him  where  she  could  not  see  him. 
But  her  eyes  did  not  tarry  with  them,  did  not  leave 
the  big  bulk  of  Sledge  Hume  until  it  had  disappeared 
around  a  bend  in  the  road.  Then  she  went  to  her 
mirror  and  stood  looking  at  herself  with  large, 
luminous  eyes. 


LAUGHTER  OF  HELGA  STRAWN    361 

"  I  wonder,"  she  whispered,  "  if  he  did  love  me, 
after  all?" 

She  could  never  know.  She  knew  that  she  could 
never  know.  And  she  went  and  threw  herself,  face 
down,  on  her  bed. 


CHAPTER  XXVII 

HUME  RIDES  THE  ONE  OPEN  TRAIL 

HARD  driven,  conscious  of  a  compelling 
force  more  dominant  than  the  strong  will 
of  a  man,  Sledge  Hume  rode  the  one  trail 
open  to  him.  It  was  as  though  the  deeds  of  his 
life  were  now  grown  tangible  separate  squares  of 
rock  cemented  into  sheer  walls  rising  about  him, 
narrowing,  forcing  him  into  the  one  way  open. 

He  rode  into  El  Toyon  and  signed  the  deed 
before  a  notary.  He  returned  it  by  a  boy  to 
Helga  Strawn,  and  by  the  same  messenger  he  sent 
back  her  horse.  From  the  stable  he  hired  another 
animal,  and  with  no  friendly  word  to  man,  woman 
or  child,  struck  out  for  the  Echo  Creek.  As  he  rode 
by  the  court  house  he  looked  at  it  curiously.  Wayne 
Shandon  was  there,  was  spending  his  brief  time  in 
jail  very  much  as  an  honoured  guest.  He  would 
come  out  in  a  few  days  and  then  —  then  MacKelvey 
would  be  looking  for  another  man  — 

Hume  turned  and  rode  back  into  town,  going 
this  time  to  the  bank.  Explaining  briefly  that  he 
expected  to  turn  a  big  deal  and  would  need  the 
ready  cash,  he  drew  out  all  but  a  few  dollars  of 
his  emergency  fund.  His  lips  were  tight  pressed, 

362 


HUME  RIDES  THE  OPEN  TRAIL     363 

his  eyes  hard,  as  he  rode  by  the  jail  again 
and  out  into  the  county  road.  The  sight  of  Mac- 
Kelvey  at  an  open  window  talking  with  Brisbane  and 
Edward  Kinsell,  made  him  frown  blackly.  Little 
things  had  come  to  be  full  of  significance. 

It  was  nearly  fifty  miles  to  Martin  Leland's.  But 
Hume  had  ridden  early  to  Helga  Strawn  and  now 
had  a  strong,  fresh  horse  under  him.  Looking  at 
his  watch,  he  saw  that  it  was  not  yet  half  past  nine. 
He  could  make  it  by  half  past  four  or  five,  riding 
hard.  And  he  was  in  the  mood  for  hard  riding. 

Very  few  times  did  he  stop  on  the  long  way. 
Once  he  paused  at  a  little  road  house  for  a  pound 
of  cheese  and  some  bread;  once  at  a  certain  crossing 
where  a  broad  trail  crossed  Echo  Creek.  He  sat 
here  a  moment,  motionless,  staring  out  across  the 
little  valley  lying  warm  under  the  afternoon  sun,  his 
eyes  running  up  and  down  along  the  course  of  the 
stream. 

Raking  his  spurs  against  his  horse's  sweat-drip 
ping  sides  he  rode  on.  In  half  an  hour  he  threw 
himself  from  the  saddle  at  Leland's  house. 

He  heard  the  sound  of  singing  within,  a  girl's 
voice  lilting  wordlessly,  happily,  bespeaking  a  heart 
that  was  brimming  with  the  pure  joy  of  life  and  love. 
Striding  to  Leland's  office  he  flung  the  door  open. 
In  a  moment,  answering  his  impatient  rap,  Martin 
entered. 

"  I've  come  to  talk  business,"  Hume  said,  flinging 
himself  into  a  chair.  "  What's  doing?  " 


364  THE  SHORT  CUT 

"  What  do  you  mean,  Mr.  Hume?  "  Leland  asked 
gravely. 

"  I  want  to  know  where  you  stand.  Conway's 
strong  for  pulling  out,  eh?  " 

"  I  told  you  all  that  he  wrote  me." 

"  What  have  you  done  about  it?  " 

"  Nothing." 

"  You're  going  to  buy  him  out?  " 

"  No." 

"Damn  it!"  cried  Hume  irritably.  "Don't 
make  me  pump  at  you  like  a  dry  well !  You  know 
what  I'm  driving  at.  If  Shandon  goes  clear  where 
are  you  and  I  coming  out?  " 

"  Mr.  Hume,"  returned  the  old  man  heavily, 
"  I'm  glad  you  came,  for  I  was  coming  to  you. 
Shandon  is  going  clear.  I've  talked  with  his  lawyer, 
I've  talked  with  Kinsell  — " 

"  What's  Kinsell  got  to  do  with  it?  " 

"  Kinsell  is  a  detective  sent  up  here  by  Brisbane 
to  work  up  the  case.  Also,  I  have  talked  with 
Wayne  Shandon."  This  came  slowly,  with  an  evi 
dent  effort,  but  it  came  calmly.  "  Shandon  will  go 
free  because  he  is  not  the  man  who  killed  Arthur 
Shandon." 

"You're  swapping  horses,  eh?"  sneered  Hume. 

"  Perhaps  not  exactly.  But  I  have  gone  to  him 
and  told  him  that  I  had  allowed  myself  to  think  of 
him  as  a  murderer  for  the  illogical  but  none  the  less 
potent  reason  that  I  hated  his  father.  And  I  apol 
ogised  to  him,  having  no  other  amends  to  make." 


HUME  RIDES  THE  OPEN  TRAIL    365 

u  Cut  the  sentimental  drivel  short,"  cut  in  Hume 
unpleasantly.  "  Have  you  gone  over  to  his  side  of 
the  deal?  Are  you  throwing  me  down  and  tying  up 
with  him?" 

"  No."  Leland  threw  out  his  hands  in  a  wide 
gesture.  u  I  am  done  with  the  whole  thing." 

"  And  what  happens  to  me !  Here  I  am  in  up  to 
my  neck  and  you  go  and  chuck  the  thing.  Do  you 
think  I'll  stand  for  the  double  cross  like  that?  " 

"  Hume,"  cried  Leland  sharply,  "  I  don't  want  to 
quarrel  with  you.  I  am  quitting  because  I  am 
ashamed  of  the  things  I  have  already  done.  I  tried 
to  blind  myself  by  thinking  that  I  was  usurping  the 
prerogative  of  God,  in  telling  myself  that  it  was  my 
duty  to  punish.  Now  I  am  ashamed,  I  tell  you. 
And  not  a  second  too  soon  can  you  understand  and 
the  world  know  that  you  and  I  are  in  no  way  inter 
ested  in  each  other.  I  have  learned  since  I  saw  you 
that  you  were  going  on  with  a  matter  which  I  can 
have  nothing  to  do  with." 

"What's  that?" 

"  I  refer  to  the  way  in  which  you  are  seeking  to 
tunnel  from  the  Mclntosh  property  into  Shandon's, 
to  take  the  water  whether  or  no.  That  may  be  in 
your  mind  a  bold  stroke  of  business.  I  can't  counte 
nance  that  sort  of  thing." 

"  Ho !  How  you've  taken  the  robe  of  righteous 
ness  upon  your  shoulders !  And  after  trying  to  steal 
Shandon's  ranch  from  him  on  a  mortgage!  " 

Martin  made  no  reply.     Not  once   during  the 


366  THE  SHORT  CUT 

conversation  did  his  eyes  light  with  anger;  not  for 
a  moment  was  the  underlying  shadow  of  sadness 
gone  from  them.  He  was  holding  a  strong  rein 
upon  himself.  He  was  judging  himself  now;  he 
was  passing  judgment  upon  no  other  man. 

Hume,  glancing  at  him  quickly,  curiously,  felt  that 
he  knew  what  Leland  was  thinking.  Then  his  mind 
came  back  abruptly  to  his  own  interests. 

"  So  you  don't  know  what  Conway  is  going  to 
do?" 

"  I  have  advised  him  to  sell  to  Shandon  and  to 
give  Shandon  the  time  he  wants  to  make  his  pay 
ments." 

"  And  you  will  sell  to  Shandon  too?  " 

"  I  think  not.  My  holdings  are  too  heavy  for 
him  to  swing.  No,  I  am  going  to  give  them  away." 

u  Not  to  him!" 

"  No,  not  to  him.  He  wouldn't  accept  them. 
To  my  daughter  —  for  her  wedding  present.  And 
I  pray  God  that  they  will  bring  her  more  happiness 
than  they  have  brought  me." 

Hume's  big  fist  came  smashing  down  upon  the 
table. 

"  By  God,  you've  got  to  buy  me  out !  I'm  ruined, 
ruined,  I  tell  you,  if  you  and  Conway  drop  me  now." 

u  I'll  do  it."  The  calm  words  surprised  Hume 
who  had  expected  a  blunt  refusal.  "  Upon  one  con 
sideration.  Namely  that  you  sell  to  me  at  the  figure 
which  you  paid.  I  am  willing  to  play  fair  and  I 
think  that  that  is  fair.  It  leaves  you  where  you 


HUME  RIDES  THE  OPEN  TRAIL    367 

started.  It  leaves  me  where  I  started  except  that  I 
shall  have  been  spending  a  good  many  thousands  for 
Wanda's  wedding  present." 

Hume,  his  brows  knitted,  rose  to  his  feet  and 
strode  back  and  forth  in  the  room,  trying  to  look 
his  problem  squarely  in  the  face.  Failure  con 
fronted  him,  and  failure  was  more  hideous  to  him 
than  the  shame,  dishonour,  disgrace,  which  would 
accompany  it.  In  a  flash  that  left  his  face  drawn  he 
saw  himself  as  he  had  never  seen  himself  before. 

He  went  to  the  window  looking  out  into  the  fields 
over  which  the  afternoon  sun  was  dropping  low. 
He  wanted  to  think;  and  he  did  not  want  Martin 
Leland  to  see  his  face.  He  heard  Wanda  singing 
happily.  Her  voice  was  not  like  Helga's,  and  yet, 
tinkling  through  it  he  seemed  to  hear  Helga's  cool 
laughter. 

"  I'm  tired  out,"  he  said  abruptly,  coming  back 
to  Leland.  "  Let  me  have  a  bed.  We'll  settle  it 
in  the  morning." 

Leland  looked  at  him  curiously.  This  was  unlike 
Sledge  Hume's  usual  way.  But,  offering  no  remark 
he  showed  Hume  his  room. 

It  was  far  into  the  night  before  Hume's  tired  body 
found  the  rest  of  deep  sleep.  It  was  long  after 
sunrise  when  he  awoke.  It  had  been  a  man's  voice 
that  jarred  upon  his  ears  even  in  sleep,  that  finally 
brought  him  to  his  elbow  with  a  start. 

Slipping  out  of  bed  he  stepped  quickly  to  his  win 
dow.  There  were  three  horses  in  the  yard,  saddled, 


368  THE  SHORT  CUT 

sweaty  and  dusty.  MacKelvey's  heavy  voice 
came  to  him  again  from  Leland's  study. 

He  dressed  swiftly,  his  eyes  glittering.  Spin 
ning  the  cylinder  of  his  revolver,  he  shoved  it 
into  his  pocket  and  into  another  pocket  thrust  the 
thick  pad  of  bank  notes  which  had  been  under  his 
pillow  during  the  night.  Jhen  he  went  back  to  the 
window. 

He  could  hear  Julia  in  the  kitchen.  He  could 
hear  Leland's  voice  now,  now  MacKelvey's,  then 
another  man's.  Was  it  Johnson's? 

'*  That  cursed  woman,"  he  muttered  bitterly. 
"She  double  crossed  me  after  all.  God!  I  was  a 
fool!" 

He  did  not  hesitate.  Kinsell  was  a  detective,  who 
had  been  in  Shandon's  hire  for  six  months.  A  hun 
dred  little  things  that  had  been  trifles  at  the  time 
came  back  to  him  now  to  whisper  that  Kinsell  had 
known  a  long  time.  And  Helga  had  given  them  the 
rest  of  the  evidence  they  lacked.  Helga,  a  woman, 
had  tricked  him,  had  deceived  him,  had  made  him 
love  her  in  the  only  way  love  was  possible  to  this 
man,  and  then  had  laughed  at  him  and  doublecrossed 
him. 

Making  no  sound  he  slipped  out  of  the  window, 
and  stooping  low  so  that  from  no  other  window 
could  he  be  seen,  he  ran  around  to  the  back  of  the 
house.  A  glance  at  the  saddled  horses  in  the  yard 
showed  him  that  their  legs  were  shaking,  that  they 
were  done  up  from  a  hard  ride.  He  moved  on, 


HUME  RIDES  THE  OPEN  TRAIL    369 

further  from  the  house,  dodging  behind  a  tree,  stop 
ping  to  listen,  to  peer  out,  hearing  the  maddening 
beat,  beat,  beat  of  his  own  heart.  He  must  have 
a  horse  and  then  as  Wayne  Shandon  had  done,  he 
could  disappear  into  this  wilderness  of  rocks  and 
trees,  hide  for  weeks  or  months,  and  at  last  get  out 
of  the  country.  Flight  lay  before  him;  his  quick 
ened  senses  told  him  what  lay  behind  unless  he  fled 
now  and  swiftly. 

"  MacKelvey's  a  fool  at  best,"  he  grunted,  snatch 
ing  at  a  ray  of  hope.  "  Once  I  get  on  a  horse — " 

He  was  taking  a  chance  but  he  had  to  take 
chances.  Making  a  short  circuit  he  ran  at  last, 
still  stooping  as  he  ran.  He  came  safely  to  the 
stable,  selected  a  powerful  looking  horse,  threw  on 
the  saddle  with  hasty  hands.  The  bit  was  trouble 
some,  the  horse,  with  head  lifted  high,  fought 
against  it  with  big  square  teeth  clenched.  But  at 
last  the  job  was  done  and  Hume  rode  out  at  the 
side  door,  his  spurs  in  his  hand,  not  taking  time  to 
buckle  them  on. 

He  began  to  think  that  his  luck  was  with  him  now. 
He  rode  slowly  at  first,  afraid  of  the  noise  of  his 
horse's  hoofs.  A  quick  glance  behind  showed  him 
the  three  horses  in  the  yard,  no  man  or  woman  in 
sight. 

Which  way?  There  was  scant  time  for  reflec 
tion.  It  was  time  for  inspiration,  for  the  flash  of 
instinct.  He  felt  the  pad  of  bank  notes  safe  in  his 
pocket.  He  would  ride  straight  to  the  Bar  L-M, 


370  THE  SHORT  CUT 

cross  the  bridge,  turn  out  from  the  range  build 
ings,  reach  the  upper  end  of  the  valley.  He  would 
cross  over  the  ridge  to  where  his  hirelings  were  tun 
nelling.  There  was  a  man  among  them  who  was 
not  afraid  of  the  law,  a  man  who  would  help  him, 
who  would  go  to  hell  for  the  half  of  that  sheaf  of 
paper. 

He  buckled  on  his  spurs  and  drove  them  into  his 
horse's  sides. 

In  the  study  MacKelvey  was  saying: 

"  I  dunno.  We  may  have  some  trouble.  Bris 
bane  has  gotten  an  injunction  all  right,  but  that 
crowd  of  Hume's  looks  like  a  bad  one.  I  have  sent 
two  men  on  ahead  to  the  Bar  L— M.  Been  deputies 
of  mine  on  more  than  one  hard  job.  By  the  way, 
talking  of  Hume,  seen  him  lately?  " 

"  Yes,"  Martin  answered.  "  He's  here  now. 
In  bed.  He  stayed  last  night  with  me.  Do  you 
want  to  see  him?  " 

"  Nothing  urgent.  I  wanted  to  ask  him  if  he 
wants  to  sell  Endymion.  Shandon  wants  to  buy  him 
back." 

Hume,  riding  furiously,  pushed  on  through  the 
forest,  keeping  a  course  parallel  to  the  road,  near 
enough  to  see  any  one  who  might  be  riding  there,  far 
enough  to  conceal  his  horse  and  himself  behind  a 
grove  or  ridge.  So  at  last  he  came  to  a  knoll  from 
which  he  could  look  down  upon  the  bridge,  not  over 


HUME  RIDES  THE  OPEN  TRAIL    371 

a  quarter  of  a  mile  away.  There  were  two  men 
there,  sitting  their  horses  idly  and  yet  seeming  to  the 
man's  distorted  imagination  to  be  watching  every 
shadow  flickering  through  the  woods.  He  jerked 
his  horse  to  a  quivering  standstill. 

He  had  recognised  one  of  the  horses,  a  great  wire 
limbed  pinto.  It  was  a  horse  familiar  in  El  Toyon, 
one  of  MacKelvey's  string. 

"  Damn  him,"  snarled  Hume,  his  eyes  flashing 
like  bright  steel. 

From  behind  a  fringe  of  trees  he  watched  the  two 
deputies.  They  made  no  move  to  go  on.  Ten  min 
utes  he  waited,  ten  minutes  of  precious  time.  Twice 
he  felt  that  their  eyes  had  found  him  out,  twice  he 
called  himself  a  fool.  Five  minutes  more  and  then, 
from  behind  him,  he  heard  the  pounding  of  hoofs. 

"  It's  MacKelvey  and  the  rest,"  he  told  himself 
angrily.  "  They've  got  me  like  a  trapped  rat. 
Damn  them.  Damn  that  traitress  !  " 

He  dipped  his  spurs  and  shot  down  a  knoll,  hop 
ing  to  be  out  of  sight,  to  wait  until  they  had  passed, 
then  to  double  on  his  trail.  But  his  luck  had  de 
serted  him.  He  did  not  know  the  woods  here,  he 
lost  ground  in  going  about  a  rocky  pile  of  earth,  and 
MacKelvey  caught  sight  of  him. 

"  Hume  !  "  came  the  big  voice.     "  Hold  on!  " 


It  was  as  though  the  world,  filled  with  shouting 
voices,  was  calling  behind  him.  Like  an  undertone 
through  it  the  cool  laughter  of  a  woman. 


372  THE  SHORT  CUT 

He  drove  his  spurs  deeper,  he  swung  his  snorting 
beast  about,  he  raised  his  quirt  striking  mightily  with 
it,  and  rushed  on.  Where?  It  did  not  matter. 
Anywhere  except  toward  the  men  in  front,  anywhere 
as  long  as  it  was  away  from  the  men  behind.  He 
heard  MacKelvey  call  again,  more  loudly,  he  saw 
the  sheriff  wave  his  arm  at  him,  and  he  rode  on, 
his  head  down  now,  careless  of  where  he  went 
so  that  the  way  led  him  farther,  farther  from  what 
lay  behind. 

Suddenly,  booming  in  his  ears,  came  the  roar  of 
the  river.  On,  his  leaping  horse  carried  him,  stumb 
ling,  threatening  to  unseat  its  rider,  plunging  on. 
The  roar  of  the  river  grew  louder;  again  there  were 
ten  thousand  voices  shouting,  clamouring,  yelling  at 
him.  He  topped  a  last  ridge  here  and  looking 
down  saw  the  black  chasm  of  the  river,  the  steep 
banks. 

"  If  I  only  had  Endymion !  God !  If  I  only  had 
Endymion." 

He  jerked  savagely  at  his  reins,  stopping  his 
horse.  As  he  looked  back  and  saw  that  MacKelvey 
and  Johnson  and  another  man  were  riding  toward 
him.  He  glanced  again  at  the  deep  chasm  of  the 
river.  A  quick  shudder  swept  through  him  and  left 
him  steady,  white  faced,  cold. 

"  Hume !  "  shouted  MacKelvey. 

Then  Hume's  spurs  drank  blood  again,  once  more 
his  frightened  horse  was  leaping  under  him,  plung 
ing  down  toward  the  river.  Louder  and  louder 


HUME  RIDES  THE  OPEN  TRAIL    373 

yelled  the  many  voices,  mocking,  jeering,  calling, 
echoing  away  into  titanic  laughter.  And  through  it 
all,  like  the  fine  note  of  a  violin  through  the  pulsing 
of  an  orchestra,  sounded  the  cool  music  of  a  woman's 
laughter. 

"  Curse  her !  "  shrieked  Hume.  "  Curse  them 
all.  A  fool  girl  did  this,  a  fool  Shandon  did  it  — " 

Like  a  missile  from  a  giant's  catapult  he  rushed 
(down  the  steep  slope;  MacKelvey,  from  the  ridge 
watched  him  and  wondered.  He  saw  that  the  man 
had  shaken  his  reins  loose,  that  his  horse  had  almost 
reached  the  verge  of  the  chasm,  that  as  the  animal 
was  ready  to  gather  his  great  muscles  for  the  leap 
the  reins  had  tightened  a  little,  spasmodically,  as 
though  the  rider's  nerve  had  failed  him.  And  then 
that  they  loosened  again  as  though  he  had  seen  it 
was  too  late  or  had  regained  his  nerve. 

The  horse  leaped  far  out,  struck  the  opposite 
bank,  seemed  to  hang  there  a  brief  second,  straining, 
balancing,  and  then  with  its  rider  dropped  back 
ward. 

The  roar  of  the  water  boomed  on  like  the  clam 
ouring  of  a  world  of  voices;  through  it  ran  a  finer 
note  like  the  cool  laughter  of  a  woman;  and  upon 
Sledge  Hume's  white  face,  as  he  lay  still  upon  a 
jagged  stone  before  the  current  swept  him  away,  the 
little  drops  of  spray  were  like  a  woman's  tears. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII 

"IT  is  HOME!  " 

TO  those  who  loved  the  sensational  in  and 
about  El  Toyon  the  trial  of  Wayne  Shandon 
was  a  disappointment.  Never  had  the 
courthouse  been  more  crowded,  never  had  the  setting 
been  more  stimulating  to  their  highly  coloured  im 
aginations.  Red  Reckless,  looking  to  their  eyes 
picturesquely  pale  from  his  confinement  and  the 
sheriff's  bullet;  Brisbane  with  his  poker  table  face 
and  his  reputation;  Edward  Kinsell,  whose  smiling 
manner  no  longer  concealed  the  glamour  which  clung 
about  so  distinguished  a  detective;  Martin  Leland 
apparently  older,  less  stern,  his  eyes  gentler;  Mrs. 
Leland,  confident  and  happy  from  her  talk  with 
Shandon's  attorney;  Wanda,  her  eyes  very  bright, 
her  cheeks  flushed,  her  heart  yearning,  hoping,  pray 
ing  and  a  little  afraid;  Helga  Strawn,  now  known  by 
her  own  name,  and  linked  by  rumour  with  the  man 
who  had  paid  the  penalty  for  the  crime  of  which  he 
had  accused  Wayne  Shandon,  her  manner  cool, 
aloof;  even  Willie  Dart,  whom  everybody  knew  and 
who  in  some  strange  way  had  come  to  be  looked 
upon  as  a  special  detective,  imported  a  year  ago  by 
the  counsel  for  the  defence. 

The  district  attorney's  argument  was  cool,  dis 
passionate,  perfunctory.     He  showed  no  interest  in 

374 


"IT  IS  HOME!1'  375 

securing  a  conviction  for  the  very  simple  reason  that 
he  felt  none.  Brisbane  was  a  further,  deeper  disap 
pointment.  He  failed  to  live  up  to  the  reputation 
that  had  preceded  him.  He  constantly  studied  his 
watch  and  a  time-table  during  the  argument  of  the 
prosecution  and  when  it  was  done  audibly  asked  the 
district  attorney  concerning  the  best  train  out  of  El 
Toyon.  He  said  what  he  had  to  say  to  the  jury 
in  less,  than  half  an  hour.  When  charged  by  the 
judge  the  jury  filed  out  with  grave  faces  only  to  file 
back  in  five  minutes  smilingly. 

"  Not  guilty,  your  honour !  " 

Since  the  principals  had' seemed  to  put  little  fervour 
into  the  occasion  the  good  people  of  El  Toyon 
supplied  the  deficit.  Amid  great  shouting  and  cheer 
ing  Wayne  Shandon  made  his  smiling,  hand-shaking 
way  down  'hrough  his  friends,  coming  straight  to 
the  girl  whose  eyes  were  the  happiest  eyes  that  he 
had  ever  seen,  shining  through  a  mist  of  tears. 

There  was  no  hesitation  now  as  Martin  Leland 
put  out  his  hand. 

"  I  wronged  you,  Shandon,"  he  said  simply. 
"  And  I  think  that  I  knew  it  all  the  time.  It  hasn't 
made  me  happy.  I  hope  that  you  will  accept  my 
congratulations." 

'4  Thank  you,"  answered  Shandon.  And  he 
locked  Leland's  hand  heartily  in  his  own. 

Mrs.  Leland  had  her  motherly  greeting  to  make 
and  said  it  happily.  Nor  did  she  use  unnecessary 
words.  In  a  moment  she  had  slipped  her  arm 


376  THE  SHORT  CUT 

through  her  husband's  and  was  moving  with  him 
through  the  surging  crowd,  leaving  Wayne  with 
Wanda. 

"  Say,  Red!  "  Mr.  Dart,  struggling  valiantly  with 
the  crush,  red  faced  and  triumphant,  was  screaming 
up  into  Shandon's  face.  "  Some  business,  ain't  it, 
pal  ?  Shake !  Shake,  Wanda !  Where's  old  Mart  ? 
Good  old  scout  after  all,  ain't  he?  I  want  to  go 
squeeze  his  flipper;  I  want  to  go  squeeze  everybody's 
flipper.  I  want  to  go  get  drunk.  Honest  I  do, 
Red!" 

Big  Bill  shoved  a  great,  hard  hand  by  Dart's 
shoulder,  gripping  Shandon's.  He  didn't  say  any 
thing,  but  his  tightening  hand,  his  flashing  eyes  were 
eloquent. 

Only  when  they  had  passed  out  into  the  court 
house  yard,  Wanda  and  Wayne  side  by  side,  and 
had  been  left  behind  by  the  hat-tossing,  clamorous 
crowd,  hastening  out  into  the  street,  did  Wanda 
speak. 

"  I  am  so  happy,  Wayne,"  she  whispered. 
"  Doesn't  it  seem  as  though  life  were  just  beginning 
all  over  this  morning?  " 

"  Like  just  beginning!  "  he  answered  softly,  draw 
ing  her  arm  tight,  tight  to  his  side.  "  With  you, 
Wanda." 

There  came  a  bright  morning  with  the  sun 
just  blinking  genially  above  the  tree  tops,  with  the 
warm  glory  of  the  full  summer  in  the  air,  and  under 


"IT  IS  HOME!"  377 

Wanda's  window  a  voice  calling  softly.  She  had 
been  asleep;  she  was  not  certain  that  she  had  not 
been  dreaming  — 

But  the  call  came  again,  still  softly,  still  ringing 
with  a  note  which  sent  a  flutter  into  her  breast. 

"  Awake  at  last?"  and  Wayne  was  laughing 
happily.  '*  Ten  minutes  to  dress,  my  sleepy  miss, 
and  meet  me  at  the  stable.  I'm  going  to  saddle 
Gypsy." 

She  heard  him  hurry  away,  and  for  a  little  she 
lay  still,  smiling. 

He  caught  her  up  into  his  arms,  as  she  came  down 
the  path,  kissed  her,  told  her  not  to  ask  questions 
and  helped  her  into  the  saddle.  He  swung  up  to 
Little  Saxon's  back  and  together  they  rode  out  into 
the  forest  through  the  brightening  morning. 

"  Wayne,"  she  said  when  he  had  done  nothing  but 
look  at  her  and  drive  the  colour  higher  and  higher 
into  her  cheeks.  "  Where  are  we  going?  " 

"  Can't  you  guess?  "  he  teased  her. 

They  were  riding  toward  the  north,  toward  the 
cliffs  standing  up  about  Echo  Creek  Valley,  toward 
the  cave. 

"Wayne,"  she  said  again,  a  little  sadly,  "I  was 
going  to  tell  you  the  other  day,  but  you  were  in  such 
a  hurry —  You  are  not  going  to  the  cave?  " 

u  Why  not?  "  he  asked  lightly. 

"  I  can't  go  there  any  more,"  she  answered 
quickly.  "  I  had  come  to  love  it  so,  it  was  so  en 
tirely  ours,  dear.  And  now,  I  saw  it  the  last  time 


378  THE  SHORT  CUT 

I  rode  that  way,  there's  a  sign  on  the  cliffs,  '  No 
Hunting  Allowed.'  I  asked  papa.  He  has  sold 
all  that  side  of  the  valley,  the  cliffs  and  the  flats  be 
yond  to  some  man  in  the  city." 

Shandon  laughed. 

"What's  the  odds?"  as  lightly  as  before. 
"  Come  right  down  to  it,  Wanda,  the  cave  has 
served  its  purpose,  hasn't  it?  And,  if  you'd  been 
shut  up  in  it  like  a  prison,  I  wonder  if  you'd  have  any 
sentiment  for  it  left?  Let's  make  the  horses  run  a 
bit.  I  feel  like  a  gallop,  don't  you?" 

She  bent  forward  in  the  saddle  hurriedly,  hiding 
her  face  from  him.  How  should  a  man  care  for  the 
little  things  which  mean  so  much  to  a  girl? 

But  still  they  rode  toward  the  cliffs.  The  sign 
was  there,  a  black  and  white  monstrosity  which  hurt 
her  but  which  seemed  merely  to  interest  Shandon. 
He  insisted  on  riding  closer.  And  when,  too  proud 
to  show  him  all  that  she  felt,  she  came  with  him  to 
the  big  cedar,  he  dismounted  and  put  out  his  hands 
to  her. 

"  Let's  go  up,"  he  said  lightly.     "  Just  for  fun." 

She  refused,  and  he  insisted.  And  at  last  they 
climbed  up. 

Wayne  was  upon  the  ledge  of  rock  before  her, 
his  eyes  filled  with  a  love  that  shone  sparklingly, 
laughingly  into  her  troubled  ones.  She  began  to 
wonder  — 

She  turned  swiftly  toward  the  entrance  of  the 
cave.  There  was  a  door  now  made  of  great  rough 


"IT  IS  HOME!"  379 

hewn  slabs  of  wood.  Wayne  slipped  his  arm  about 
her  and  drew  her  close  to  it. 

u  Will  you  open  it?  "  he  whispered. 

:<  Wayne !  "  wonderingly,  seeking  to  understand. 

He  took  her  hand  in  his,  laid  it  for  a  moment 
upon  his  lips,  then  put  her  fingers  against  the  great 
door. 

"  Open  it,  dear,"  he  told  her. 

Slowly  the  heavy,  wide  portal  swung  back  to  her 
touch.  Her  heart  beating  madly,  she  scarce  knew 
why,  her  step  at  once  eager  and  hesitant,  she  stepped 
by  him.  And  he,  close  behind  her,  laughed  softly 
at  her  little  cry,  the  one  moment  amply  repaying  the 
man  for  six  months  of  labour. 

Now  she  understood  everything;  now  her  heart 
stood  still  and  then  throbbed  with  a  wonderful  joy. 
And  she  turned  and  threw  her  arms  about  his  neck, 
crying  softly:  "  Wayne !  It  is  home !  " 

For  the  darkness  which  she  had  expected  in  the 
cavern's  deep  interior  had  fled  before  the  softly  bril 
liant  light  that  bathed  it  rosily,  that  came  from  she 
did  not  yet  know  where.  She  saw  a  deep  throated 
fireplace,  built  of  big  granite  blocks,  a  monster  log 
blazing  and  roaring  mightily  in  it,  the  flames  leaping 
up  the  rock  chimney,  drawn  upward  and  back  into 
the  sloping  passage  where  the  draft  of  air  had  in 
the  old  days  carried  away  the  smoke  from  her  rude 
stove.  And  she  guessed  who  had  made  the  fire 
place,  piling  stone  on  stone. 

She  saw  a  table,  rustic,  heavy >  with  legs  of  twisted 


380  THE  SHORT  CUT 

cedar  branches,  with  books  upon  it,  with  a  vase  made 
of  a  hollowed  out,  gnarled  limb  and  choked  with 
its  great  armful  of  valley  flowers.  She  saw  a  chair 
that  patient,  loving  hands  had  made  from  what  the 
winter-locked  forest  had  provided,  seat  and  back 
covered  with  deerskin  cushions,  a  chair  that  opened 
its  arms  to  her  as  though,  still  keeping  its  identity  as 
a  part  of  her  woodland,  it  were  welcoming  her  to  a 
world  where  love's  heart  beat  close  to  nature's.  She 
saw  that  the  hard  floor  had  disappeared  under 
freshly  strewn  pine  needles  and  under  the  two  big 
bear  skin  rugs  which  sprawled  mightily  before  the 
table  and  before  the  fireplace.  She  saw  another 
chair,  Wayne's  chair  it  was  going  to  be,  because  it 
was  such  a  monster. 

She  could  only  gasp  as  her  dancing  eyes  tried  to 
see  everything  at  once  —  flowers  everywhere,  hid 
ing  the  walls,  breathing  perfume  from  the  corners, 
drooping  from  the  ceiling. 

"  But  the  light!  "  she  cried,  wonderingly.  "  It  is 
like  day." 

Then  at  last  she  saw  how  everywhere  in  the  high 
ceiling  he  had  chiselled  out  deep  inverted  bowls,  and 
in  each  cup-like  cavity  nothing  in  the  world  other 
than  a  glowing  electric  bulb  was  shining,  flooding  the 
room  with  a  soft  glow. 

"And  you  did  all  of  this  yourself?  While  you 
were  alone  here  in  the  winter?  " 

His  eyes  were  like  hers,  his  own  face  flushed  with 
the  happiness  of  the  hour. 


"IT  IS  HOME!"  381 

"I  didn't  make  the  bulbs,"  he  laughed.  "  It's 
taken  me  a  week  playing  electrician  to  get  the  wires 
up,  the  dynamo  running  back  there  under  the  water 
fall.  Do  you  like  it?" 

She  did  not  answer.  She  had  no  time  to  answer, 
she  was  so  busy  trying  the  two  chairs,  inhaling  the 
fragrance  of  the  flowers,  admiring  the  fireplace,  ex 
amining  the  reading  lamp  which  hung  over  the 
table  and  which  he  had  constructed  of  wood,  chosen 
for  beauty  of  natural  colour  and  grain,  the  opaque 
sides  shutting  out  the  light  which  fell  straight  down 
upon  an  open  book. 

Only  now  did  she  realise  that  the  cave  seemed 
smaller.  There  was  a  partition  running  across  it, 
a  wide  door  standing  ajar.  He  followed  her  as  she 
ran  to  it. 

"  My  bedroom,"  he  warned  her.  "  I  won't 
swear  to  its  tidiness." 

Here  again  was  the  soft  glow  of  electric  lights 
cunningly  concealed  with  nowhere  a  hint  of  the  wires 
that  ran  in  deeply  chiseled  grooves;  here  was  a  wide 
couch,  a  bit  of  the  woodland,  as  were  the  chairs  and 
table,  the  rough  bark  still  upon  the  woodwork,  cush 
ions  and  coverlet  of  bearskin;  here  a  smaller  table, 
a  smaller  chair. 

"  It's  wonderful,  you  wonderful  Wayne !  "  she 
cried  delightedly. 

But  he  had  his  arm  about  her  again  and  was  lead 
ing  her  toward  the  fireplace,  to  it,  through  another 
door  which  opened  to  the  passage  leading  to  the 


382  THE  SHORT  CUT 

chasm  where  the  water  leaped  down  toward  the 
bowels  of  the  earth.  The  door  flung  open,  the  pas 
sage  filled  with  light  and  a  fresh  surprise. 

Across  the  chasm  were  logs  as  large  as  one  man 
could  handle,  hewn  so  that  they  lay  close  together, 
so  that  their  upper  surface  made  a  level  floor. 
Wanda  and  Shandon  crossed,  hearing  the  water 
shouting  under  them.  And  here,  where  Wanda  had 
never  been  before,  they  came  upon  — 

"  The  kitchen!  "  she  cried.     "  A  real  kitchen  1  " 

With  a  real  stove,  only  that  it  was  made  of  slabs 
and  squares  of  granite,  a  real  kitchen  table  only  that 
it  was  made  from  rough  pine  and  cedar,  with  the 
bark  still  on  it;  and  very  real  dishes.  Most  of  all 
the  real  fragrance  of  coffee  just  boiling  over. 
Wanda  ran  to  retrieve  it  and  Wayne  went  on  ahead 
of  her.  In  a  moment  he  called. 

All  new  to  her,  the  short  climb  upward  along  a 
flight  of  steps  cut  in  the  rock,  the  little  winding 
way  up  which  she  ran  eagerly,  the  narrow  rock  plat 
form,  the  door  against  which  he  stood. 

"  First,"  he  commanded  gaily,  "  turn  and  look 
back." 

She  turned.  Looking  down  she  saw  the  kitchen; 
looking  outward  she  saw  a  great  cut  through  the 
cliffs  where  they  seemed  to  fall  apart  in  a  steep  sided 
ravine,  and  through  this  she  looked  out  and  down 
over  her  forests. 

"  The  view  from  My  Lady's  bedroom,"  he 
laughed,  "  And  now  My  Lady's  bedroom,  itself." 


"IT  IS  HOME!"  383 

He  threw  open  the  door,  standing  aside  to  watch 
her  pass. 

A  tiny  rudely  squared  chamber,  all  in  white. 
Countless  warm,  furry  pelts  of  the  snowshoe  rab 
bits  he  had  trapped  during  the  winter,  made  a 
white  carpet  underfoot;  a  couch  unlike  the  other 
in  that  this  was  fashioned  entirely  of  white  pine, 
the  smooth  surfaces  polished  and  glistening  under 
their  many  coats  of  shellac,  a  coverlet  of  countless 
other  white  rabbit  skins  stitched  together;  a  little 
dressing  table  of  glistening  white  pine,  with  a  real 
mirror  reflecting  two  flushed  happy  faces,  and  on  the 
floor  a  big  white  bearskin. 

"  And  you  did  it  all,  every  bit,  yourself!  " 

That  was  the  thought  that  flooded  the  caves  for 
her  with  a  light  more  softly  radiant  than  the  glow 
of  innumerable  electric  bulbs;  the  thought  which 
hid  the  little  flaws  in  stone  and  woodwork  and  gave 
a  gleam  to  them  that  no  mere  shellac  and  white 
wood  could  have  done. 

They  went  back  to  the  living  room  to  stand,  silent 
for  a  little,  before  the  fireplace.  They  watched  the 
flames  shoot  upward  through  little  sprays  and  clus 
ters  of  fiery  sparks.  Their  hands  crept  together, 
clinging  close.  Slowly  their  eyes  came  away  from 
the  fire  and  sought  each  the  other's.  And  she  saw 
what  he  saw,  a  love  that  is  eternal  and  that  under 
stands. 

THE   END 


14  DAY  USE 

RETURN  TO  DESK  FROM  WHICH  BORROWED 

LOAN  DEPT. 

This  book  is  due  on  the  last  date  stamped  below,  or 

on  the  date  to  which  renewed.]^  gTf*^  £=v    | 
Renewed  books  are  subject  to  immediate  recafi. 


JAN26t-: 

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IB  32823 


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ARY' 


